Constant Vigilance!
by Celebwen Telcontar
Summary: When Harry was left on the doorstep, he was picked up by Mad-Eye Moody. The two of them then move about Australia, and finally Harry ends up in England. Includes Nazis and multi-Animagus forms!
1. Chapter 1

**_Celebwen telcontar: I adopted this fic off of Rorchach's Blot's Odd Ideas. He is an excellent comedy writer, but I can't do comedy to save my soul, so I'm doing a bit of a serious spin on this story. The original is below, and my version is going to be next chapter._**

**_Balrog: And why do this?_**

**_Celebwen Telcontar: Because it's fun and I think that a Harry raised by Moody might be rather interesting. For one thing, there's the fact that he won't be nearly so naïve in the future._**

**_Here we go!_**

**_CT_**

* * *

Minerva looked sadly at the house where 'those dreadful muggles' lived and tried again to convince Albus that it was no place to leave a magical child.

"I'm sorry Minerva but . . ." Albus slumped to the ground, the victim of a powerful stunner.

"Albus" Minerva cried before joining him in the land of nod.

Out of the shadows came a heavily scarred man with a horrible grin, using several well practiced wand movements he modified their memories, "you dropped the boy off, you don't think Figg will be needed, and if you ever need someone to check on the boy then you'll call your old pal Moody."

"I just couldn't let him leave you here lad" he wrapped a scarred hand around the sleeping child's basket and gave a rather frightening smile, "you'd never reach your potential living here, but I promise you boy that with me teaching you you'll be great."

Baby Harry didn't awake at the sound of his new guardian's voice and the world changed.

"Constant Vigilance" Moody yelled at the two unconscious Professors before absconding into the night with the sleeping form of the boy-who-lived.

* * *

Unknown Location, ten years later . . .

* * *

Moody smirked as he entered his son's room, gathering his energies he cast a stunner at the bed, "Constant Vig . . ."

His trademark phrase was cut short by the impact of a large blunt instrument to the side of his head.

"Constant Vigilance" eleven year old Harry cried as he began pummeling his 'father.'

Grunting in frustration, Moody grabbed his son's makeshift weapon, "what have I told you about attacking with a club?"

"Go for the soft tissue" Harry replied sullenly.

"And why didn't you follow that advice?" Moody's voice was dangerously calm.

"Because you taught me to go for the soft tissue" Harry replied quietly, "and I figured that you would be wearing groin protection of some kind."

"Decided to use my 'Constant Vigilance' against me eh?" Moody eyed the boy, "good job."

Harry brightened, "does that mean that I did the right thing?"

"Means that you're learning" Moody agreed, "good job. Letter arrived for you today boy."

"What was in it?" Harry eyed his mentor wearily, "who sent it?"

"It was your Hogwarts Letter," Moody smirked, "and what makes you think that I checked it?"

"Constant Vigilance"

"That's me boy," the scarred man said proudly as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

"What are we going to do about the letter?" Harry eyed his mentor, looking for any opening in the older man's defense.

"Well," Moody responded, "I was thinking that we could go and get your school supplies, be a good idea to get you a wand that is on the books anyway."

"So they don't think of looking for my other wands?"

"That's part of it," Moody agreed.

"Can I also get a new eye like yours?" Harry asked hopefully, "I don't like not knowing if there are people lurking about under invisibility cloaks."

"We'll see," Moody smiled indulgently

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Next chapter is mine! This was all Rorchach's Blot's!**_

_**CT**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Here's my original version of the story! Let's get to it! Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, and I am making no money off of this. Stop the lawyers, someone, please? And before anyone else sues me, the idea for this story is Rorchach's Blot's!**_

_**To the story now!**_

_**CT**_

Minerva looked at the child on the doorstep. Hagrid was already bellowing to the skies, and Albus was comforting the half giant.

_Reducto! Stupify!_ a voice hissed from behind the bush. Minerva turned to smile at her auror friend. "Constant Vigilance, Minerva," the old auror commented.

"Good evening, Alastor. I see that you were not taking any chances. Hopefully Hagrid will awaken in the morning with nothing more than a headache."

"Probably nothing more than a mere hangover would give him, Minerva," Alastor growled in reply. "You might want to leave Hogwarts when we leave the country. Albus can be mighty persuasive, and with that death eater on a leash…" Moody let his voice die after proclaiming this bit of information. His magical eye had been swiveling all through the neighborhood as he was speaking, and he suddenly fired off a _Reducto_ at Mr. Tibbles, snarling about his customary _Constant Vigilance!_ afterwards. The car that the cat had been hiding under was blown off of the street, slammed into a light post, and the kneasle ran off, half of its tail missing. A light went on, and Minerva grabbed Hagrid and Dumbledore's robes before Apparating to the edge of the Hogwarts wards. She assumed that Moody would use the motorbike that Hagrid arrived on, and take Harry to a safe place.

"Farewell, Harry Potter," she whispered to the skies as she awakened the two.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Alastor Moody looked at the baby, and quickly scooped him up before Apparating to his safe house. His rubbish bins snapped at him, and he quickly subdued the tin guardians, before walking into the house. He cast a quick _Hominus Revelio _in the home before going fully in, not trusting anything. He transfigured a blanket into a bassinet for the child in his bedroom, then checked his Foe Glass and turned down his bed with a spell and a very powerful banishing curse to deal with anything organic in the bed. He climbed in, transfigured his clothes into comfortable pajamas, and went to bed. His wand was at his side, and, as usual, his multiple Sneakaskopes were on their highest setting. None of them were moving, which was a good thing. With all the other Dark detectors in the small house, something would go off if someone evil were within 500 km of the home.

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Just a simple start. It will get better, I assure you! Hopefully!**_

_**Balrog: Really? Right… And I'm a pile of rock.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: You are a pile of rock.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Goodness me! Seven people want this on their update alerts! **_

_**Balrog: Gaah. I'm sure it is just a fluke. A mistake with your e-mail. That's all it is, I'm sure.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Hmmmmph! (Glares at Balrog) Well, people, this storyline isn't mine entirely, and I'm sorry if I keep annoying you lot with crediting Rorchach's Blot. Also, the entire Harry Potter universe is JK Rowling's. **_

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**Happy reading! CT**

* * *

He awoke with a splitting headache. Mummy wasn't near, she usually would sing to him in the mornings. He whimpered, then remembered the green light and Mummy laying on the floor. Daddy wasn't anywhere either, he usually laughed and picked him up. Did the mean-looking man do something to Daddy as well as Mummy?

"Mummy..." he whimpered. He stood in his bassinet, and looked over the edge. There was a strange scary-looking man looking at him, a great big blue eye fixed on his face. Harry yelled, leaping back and inadvertently tipping over the bassinet in the process. The man caught the bassinet as it overbalanced, and righted it, before taking Harry out and placing him on his hip.

"Good morning, Harry," the man said in a voice that was more of a growl than anything else. Harry's eyes were wide as he touched some of the scars on the man's face. His nose looked funny, all cut up, with a large chunk taken out of it.

"Who-oo?" Harry said, trying to ask who the strange man was.

"I'm Alastor Moody, Harry, and I'll be your father from now on," the gruff man growled.

"Daddy? Mummy?" Harry said. The man—Al-star-Moody—had a strange look in his eye. It glistened.

"Listen to me, Harry. Your parents are dead. They gave up their lives for you, lad. Do you understand?"

"Mummy-Daddy go bye bye?" Harry asked. Al-star-Moody growled low in a sigh.

"Yah, kid, that's about it. They've gone away."

"Come back?" Harry asked. Al-star-Moody looked sad.

"No, kid, they're not coming back." The man went and picked up a piece of paper. He sat down in a chair, and showed it to Harry. It was a picture with many people on it. Harry could see his parents, and he could also see his Uncle Pa'foo, and his uncle Moon-Moon.

"Moon-Moon, Pa'foo!" Harry exclaimed, pointing at aforementioned people.

"No, Harry, that's Sirius Black and Remus Lupin,"

"No, Pa'foo, Moon-Moon! Pa'foo doggie!"

"Alright, kid, whatever. Anyways, we'd best get you something to eat."

Suddenly, there was a loud banging and clanging from outside. Harry looked up, frightened by the loud noise, and screeches and bells followed the banging. The scarred man put Harry down in the chair, and ran off to the door, opened it with a spell, and yelled something at the person on the walk. A tabby cat fell to the ground, having been hit by a red light. The man brought the cat in, and used a complicated incantation to make it a woman.

"Merlin's tits, Moody, did you have to make the rubbish bins attack me?!" the woman cried, removing a banana peel from her hair.

"What happened when the Darling's were attacked?" the man growled.

"Gwendolyn vanished."

"Good, you are Minerva." Al-star-Moody helped the woman up, and sat her in a chair. She reached for Harry, who smiled at her.

"Min!" he cried, toddling over to her.

"He remembers me, Alistor!" the woman cried, tears in her eyes. She picked Harry up and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Min, where Mummy-Daddy?" he asked softly.

"Oh, sweetie," Min replied softly. "Your mummy and daddy are in Heaven. With the angels." Harry imagined a place where his parents had golden tiaras and wings, and smiled.

"See! See Mummy-Daddy!" Harry insisted.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but you can't. Living people can't go to heaven until they've died," Min said. Her voice was sad.

"Die! Me die. Me see Mummy-Daddy," Harry said decively. Min and Al-star-Moody looked like someone had hit them in the back of a board.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, how was that for a cliffhanger?**_

_**Balrog: (Shruggs) It's alright, I guess.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Sarcastically) Thanks for the vote of confidence, fire-breath! **_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, I'm not going to keep you out of suspense now anymore!**_

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**Balrog: Hmmmmph. **

* * *

"What do you mean, Harry?" Minerva asked. Her heart was beating faster than she thought it should be. The boy was hardly more than a year old, and he was proclaiming that he wanted to die!

"Me die. Mummy-Daddy go heaven. Me go heaven. Me die."

"That's not how it works, son," Alistor growled at the boy. Harry cocked his head like an intrigued bird.

"No?" The word sounded like a small chirp, augmenting the avian look the boy had. Minerva knew that Animagus' had their animal forms show up on birth, and that she had been highly inquisitive at birth. With the boy looking and sounding as he did, if he became an animagus, he would most likely take the form of a bird of some sort. She chastised herself for getting off topic, even mentally, and answered Harry's question.

"No. You don't die and go to heaven immediately. You have to die when you have to die, not before," Minerva tried to hedge. The boy was extremely bright for his age, obviously having inherited a goodly portion of Lily's brain power.

"Why?" Harry asked. Minerva looked to Mad-Eye for aid. She didn't know how to answer this question; she wasn't a religious person, much less a certified clergyperson.

"Harry," Moody said, "It's because that's the way it is. It's the laws of nature and wizardkind." Harry gave that avian tilt to his head again, and the "Why" that came out of his mouth sounded a bit more like a chirp than the "No" before.

"That's just the way it is, Harry. We can't change the nature of the world." Harry looked to Minerva. She smiled at him, then he rested against her and said a single soft word.

"'Kay. I get bekkest now?"

"Sure, kid," Mad-Eye said, removing a skillet from the cupboard.

The door made an odd chiming sound, and the rubbish bins in the back began to clatter and bang. Minerva cursed and grabbed Harry before hiding under the bed in her feline form, the boy with her. Outside was Dumbledore, as she had seen in the Foe Glass. Obviously, Moody now saw Dumbledore as a threat.

"Alastor," Dumbledore began. "I was knocked unconscious and taken from Harry's relative's house last night. I was wondering if you could tell me who did that and if not, if you could track them down. I haven't seen Minerva all day, and she was with us last night. Hagrid was also knocked out."

"I don't know, Albus," Moody growled. "I'll try tracking them down for you though." Minerva heard a clang, and supposed that Moody had put the pan on the stove.

"Thank you, Alastor. That's all I ask." The door opened again, and closed. There was the sound of spells hitting the door rapid-fire, and Moody called for Minerva, who showed up with Harry.

"Well, Dumbles is onto us. Harry and I have to leave. We're going to my home in Melbourne."

"Good idea. I think I'll hand in my resignation and join you. I can't get enough of Harry here," Minerva put in, cooing to the toddler, who scowled at her. Minerva smiled and left, making sure to give the guard rubbish bins a wide berth.

* * *

When she got to the castle, she instantly went to her rooms. She cast the "Pack" spell, forcing all of her belongings neatly into her trunks. The door opened, and she jumped, cursing herself for not putting up a warning charm at the very least to ward off visitors.

"Going somewhere, Minerva?" Severus asked. The new teacher raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Severus. I'm leaving for Australia. It's getting too much here to stay for so long.

"I see." Minerva could see Severus had been taken down pegs by Lily's death. She knew the boy had loved her, and couldn't bear not telling him about Harry. But she had to stay silent, it was for Harry's best interests that they keep this little party down to only three people to keep anyone from noticing them.

"Severus, I have to leave. So if you'd be so kind as to get out of my way, I'll be going now."

"Minerva," Severus said softly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Give the headmaster this, please. I can't face him; I don't know Occlumency, and I think he'll find out what I've done."

"What have you done, Minerva?" Severus asked. Minerva cursed herself for telling that to Severus.

"Never you mind. Now please get out of my way." She pushed past the new Potions Master, and went down to the front lawn then to the Apparation wards, where she Apparated to the town where Moody lived.

With a well placed blasting spell, she kept herself from being eaten by the carnivorous rubbish bins, and went in.

"What is my animagus form?" Moody growled.

"_Quetzalcoatlus Northropi_, Alastor. We went to school together, and we had an affair in seventh year." Minerva walked in and sat on the couch. Her trunks were already shrunk and placed in her handbag.

"Good. Come on, we're leaving. I want you to hold to Harry. I have a saddle for you and Harry to ride in." Minerva felt cold. He expected her to ride on his back all the way to Melbourne?!

"But what about food?" she asked faintly.

"Don't worry," Moody growled. He took out a pair of saddle bags, each as big as a standard horse's, but enlarged inside so that it was able to hold an entire pantry's worth of food. One had a chilling charm and one had a heating charm on it.

"You expect us to ride on your back, and you not to be noticed by Muggles and the like?" Minerva asked.

"I'll Disillusion you then myself. Don't worry, I'll be sure to strap you two in before I get it on."

"Be sure you do, Alastor," Minerva replied. She was cold and felt pale and ill. This was ridiculous. Positively ridiculous. But she didn't tell the old Auror that. He would be miffed, and she still respected him. The plan would work. Besides, he could cast a very good Disillusion spell, better than Dumbledore's. Moody scooped up Harry and placed him on a large leather affair with sturrups and straps, then strapped him in tightly before rapping him on the head with his wand. The boy vanished.

"Get in, Minerva." Minerva did, and Moody strapped her in. She felt like she was going to be going on a Muggle roller coaster ride. Moody Disillusioned her, and she closed her eyes. She felt Moody climb into the harness, heard him rap himself on the head, and then the saddle shifted as she was lifted with it onto the giant bird's back. Moody cried out, a haunting whistle like cry, and used his beak to get out of the house, then launched himself skywards. Minerva clung to his back with all her might, her eyes closed, and prayed that he knew what he was doing. Then, she felt cold air in her face, and they were high above the ground. Every wingbeat drove them up then down, the great pterandon soaring over the ocean to the southeast in order to reach Australlia. And this was just the first leg of their journey as two humans and a giant dinosaur.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I didn't have the idea of Moody being a pterodactyl until the last few minutes. That was interesting, for sure. **_

_**Balrog: A pterodactyl? What's next, Harry being a triceratops? **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Perhaps. Anyways, as Moody is portrayed as an old and wary auror who catches Dark wizards, I figured a predator that is large and versatile would be a good idea. The pterodactyl was my first idea of that. The Quetzalcoatlus Northropi is the largest pterodactyl ever to live. **_

_**CT**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Celebwen Telcontar: 1413 hits! I'm popular!**_

_**Balrog: Your head is on the verge of exploding. Don't be so ridiculous. And you don't own the characters or the idea.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I'm not being ridiculous, Balrog. I'm excited.**_

_**Balrog: Oh, well. Do what you want. I'm leaving.**_

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**Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog? Balrog? Come back, please. Balrog? Alright, people, this is going to be the next chapter. Apparently I've lost my disclaimer partner.**

* * *

The exhausted pterandon headed for the opening in the cliff wall, pulling his wings in at the last possible moment, momentum sending him into the large cavern. He heard screams from his back as his passengers ducked to avoid the ceiling. He perched and the woman shakily dismounted, taking the baby with her.

Alastor moody forced his weary bones to cooperate, shifting back to his human form. The saddle fell to the ground with a thud, and Alastor managed to Reillusion himself, Minerva and Harry before falling to the ground and immediately passing out.

He awoke to the smell of cooking sausage. Minerva was near the back wall of the cave, little Harry with her. The young boy was sitting and drawing pictures in the dirt, talking to Minerva.

"An' dat Mummy, an' dat Daddy, an' dat Tiddy," Harry explained.

"That's very good, Harry. Good evening, Alastor."

"Evenin' Minnie—erva," Alastor corrected.

"Minnie's fine, Alastor. How do you feel? And don't tell me 'Fine'. I've seen you enough in the hospital wing, St. Mungo's and on the battlefield to believe that. You even said you were fine when you were carried off by a kelpie!"

"My arms ache," he grumbled.

"You flew all night, Al. It's seven in the evening. You slept all day. Here." Minerva handed him a plate of sausages, some fish and a large hunk of bread.

"Ahhhh! Damnit! Merlin's _balls_ I hurt! Where'd the bread come from?" Alastor snarled.

"We had the ingredients. I used the pan. Here, this should ease the pain. It's a tea made from willowbark."

"Salicylic acid?" he asked in a rasp. His chest felt tight, and he caughed. The cough was dry, and didn't help at all.

"Yes. Here's some cherry bark tea to take after that. They shouldn't interact negatively."

"Good," Alastor growled. He grabbed the cup of willow bark tea and downed it. He could never get used to the horrible taste. It tasted like his entire bitter section of his tongue was trying to take over, and he wanted to throw up. He calmed his stomach, forcing it to accept his demands. Then, he downed the cherry bark infusion, and felt much better.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore looked out at the grounds. It was difficult to see what was going on, and he couldn't accept that Harry would be missing like that. And that Moody would do it of all people! The old auror had more tricks up his sleeve than a porcupine had quills, Albus was sure. And now with Minerva's resignation, he was almost certain that she was in on the plot to move Harry someplace else. It was logical that the two would work together like that. And with her and Moody, the number of things that could be done was incredible. Harry could be disguised as a baby of some magical or muggle creature and being raised by Moody. Or he could be a kitten being raised by Minerva.

Albus mentally slapped himself. He was going off on tangents, and couldn't concentrate on the proper goal of the day if he had to constantly force his mind back to the present. How _could_ his deputy Headmistress do this to him?!

"Gaaah!" he snapped. He couldn't work like this. This was downright ridiculous.

Suddenly, he had an idea. He would invite Edward Kelly to the castle. Edward would never back down from a challenge, and as intellectual equals, he would be a formidable ally. The only problem was making sure the Ministry never found out. Kelly was a wanted criminal, pursued for fraud, forgery, theft, false advertising, and numerous other crimes. He had both of his ears docked, and was something of a sadist by nature.

He was doing it again! He needed a concentration potion. He would have to contact Severus for that soon. Back to Kelly, he quickly wrote the old man a note, sending it with Carmot, his owl.

As soon as Carmot was gone, he placed both hands on his desk and pressed in specific places. A hidden drawer popped open, and he removed a vial of a brilliant green substance. He smiled as he saw it. It was a form of liquid Imperious curse, and was unable to be thrown off. He would ask Kelly to give it to Moody and Minerva. They would bring Harry back here, and all would be well. He could send Harry back to the Dursleys, and they would abuse him enough so that the boy would see Albus as a savior, and follow him in all things. Now Albus only had to sit back and wait for Kelly to arrive.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: What do you think of this?**_

_**Balrog: Dumbledore is going down. I'll fire him, literally! **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Don't get too anxious, Balrog. All will be well in the end, I pledge you. But I can't give anything else away!**_

_**Balrog: (Sulks)**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: By the way people, Carmot is a mythical element needed to produce the Philosopher's Stone. Edward Kelly was an alchemist who was in the employment of Emperor Rudolph II of the Holy Roman Empire, in attempt to create the Philosopher's Stone. Just a bit of factual history!**_

_**CT**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Celebwen Telcontar: My my my! Talk about popularity! I seem to be getting the best of it!**_

_**Balrog: Don't let your head get too big for your hat, Celebwen.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I won't. Here's the next installment. **_

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**CT**

* * *

The young woman walked down the beach, looking for seashells. It was late spring, almost into summer. The November skies were deep purple with the setting sun, gleaming off of Port Phillip's whitecaps and dotted with pink, gold-edged clouds. She hummed the latest song from a popular singer, picking up a mollusk as she did so. She scanned the clouds, looking for odd shapes, and found a dark spot on the horizon, rapidly approaching. It was far too big to be a seagull, and any other flying creature was dwarfed by the sheer size of the creature.

Ellie's eyes went wide, and she remembered her magical contact lenses she had gotten. The thing was probably disillusioned, what with the wavering look it had. The beast seemed to flicker in and out of reality.

"What the Hell are you?" she asked the beast under her breath. It began to come down to a landing, before skidding to a halt about fifty meters from her. She ran to it, and saw that it was—of all the ridiculous things—a dinosaur, a member of the genus _dinosauria _as coined by Richard Owen. _Dear God,_ she thought, _It's humongous! _She saw the creature shrink after a baby and a cat were set down on the beach by the massive pterandon. Then, the creature became a heavily scarred man. Ellie fumbled for her wand, thinking that the dangerous-looking man was far more than simply a threat to her. He scowled at her, making her feel cold and frightened.

_Stupify!_ The man cried, pointing his wand at her. That was the last thought Ellie had for some time.

Alastor pulled Minerva to her feet. His arms still ached terribly, and after multiple days running from Dumbledore of all people, he was on a hair trigger, as was evidenced by the girl laying on the sand, unconscious.

"Alastor, did you have to stun her?" Minerva asked.

"Yes. She could give us away. _Obliviate!_ You were walking on the beach. I am a tourist with my wife and grandson. The bird was an exceptionally large juvenile Pacific gull." Alastor then shot an _Enervate!_ at the girl, and she awoke.

"Huh? Pardon? Sorry, mates. Where were ye headed?" she asked. The girl climbed to her feet.

"Melbourne," Alastor ground out.

"Alright. Not too far from here." The girl led the three of them down the beach to a small car by the side of the road. "I'm sorry, but I don't have much room in my car for all of you. I could hail a bus for you," she said. Minerva smiled at her.

"That'd be great. What did you say your name was?"

"Ellie. Ellie Byrd. And you?"

"I'm Victor, this is my wife Valerie, and our grandson, Horace," Alastor said. Minerva pet the baby's stubborn hair, causing him to squawk at them.

"Well, it's nice to meet you lot, that's for certain. Did you see that massive bird? I've never seen a gull chick so large!" Ellie said. Alastor glared at her.

"We'd best be on our way, Miss Byrd," Minerva said. Alastor scowled at her. Ellie Byrd smiled at them and hailed a bus to get them to a relatively populated area, where Alastor would then purchace a moderate house for them all. At least Alastor knew how to drive a Muggle car, and knew the differences in some Muggle appliances. Minerva, on the other hand, had known and been good friends with Ariel Weasley, Arthur's cousin, who made a very good life as an accountant and had forsaken magic entirely. She had started poor Arthur on his Muggle-crazy ways.

* * *

Edward Kelly walked up the lawn to the castle, sighing. He was finding a friend of Flamel's, and Flamel had been one of his pre-contemporaries. The door opened for him, and he walked in, brushing past a man with abnormally greasy hair and a very aquiline nose, who seemed rather reluctant to have him in the castle. Those dark eyes were distinctly unnerving, and the man seemed to measure him up and find him wanting without speaking a single word. Then, without a sound, he swept down the hall like some overgrown bat, and stopped by the Headmaster's pet gargoyle. Kelly smirked as he used his innate Elemental Magyk to convince the stone to move aside. With a scowl, the gargoyle leapt aside, and Kelly stepped onto the revolving staircase.

As he reached the door, he peered through it, and saw that the Headmaster had decided to use a version of liquid Imperious on him. He sneezed in disguised mirth, and opened the door. As he came through, he hit the old man with a wandless, silent _confundus_ spell, and forced the Headmaster to drink his own concoction.

"Good... evening, Headmaster," Kelly said. He knew his powers, and used them generously on the failing idiot across the desk from him.

"Good morning," the Headmaster said hazily.

"Do you know anything about the Potter boy?" Kelly asked. He leaned forward.

"No. I do not. I left him at the Muggles to..." the Headmaster listed sideways, a dribble of saliva coming from the corner of his mouth. His enigmatic blue eyes slid shut, and he collapsed. Kelly groaned, and picked up the old codger, bringing him down with a mental scowl. He was inwardly snarling at the very strength of the Imperious potion, since it was meant to follow the makers instructions as well as the instructors.

Kelly manipulated the castle to send him to the Infirmary, and set the old man down on a bed before manipulating himself out of the castle.

* * *

Albus awoke with a splitting headache. He was in the hospital wing, and he vaguely remembered giving Kelly the potion and making him go after Potter. The headache was making it impossible to think properly, and soon he slipped back into an uneasy sleep, dreaming of where Kelly was doing the strangest things, such as making up a strange language and deceiving someone named Dee with "angelic apparitions".

When he finally awoke and shook off the haziness of a drugged sleep, he saw Poppy leaning over him with a worried look on her face.

"Albus, you're finally awake. Good. How do you feel?" Albus tried to reply, but only a low, pained moan came out. Poppy ruffled her brow, and looked to Severus. "What do you think can help him?" she asked. The Potions Master looked slightly worried, which confused Albus for some reason. Why would the dour man look worried? He never looked anything other than cruel and collected.

"I have a hypothesis," he said softly, before sweeping out. Poppy looked back at Albus, and smiled.

"Don't worry, Albus, we'll have you right as spring dew in no time. Now here, take this," Poppy said, handing him a goblet filled with a purple potion that Albus recognized as a Dreamless Sleep potion. He downed it in one go, and was asleep before he fell back onto the pillow.

* * *

Severus Snape growled out his password to the stone wall that guarded his private chambers. It opened, and he stalked in. His owl, Sheik, sat on its perch, glaring at him.

"Sheik," Snape began. The brown and black owl hissed in response, clacking his beak, and hopped to Severus' arm.

Severus could remember the day that he had found Sheik.

_The young man walked through the wood, not looking anywhere in specific. He was just walking, hoping to get away from the tormenters in the school. He heard a grating hiss, almost like a bit of static from one of his father's old radios when his mother did something magical around it. Severus followed the sound to a nest high up in a tree. A female Eagle owl was laying on the ground, her wing obviously broken. She barked at him, and made a sound like she was laughing. As Severus approached, she attacked his feet, flapping crazily with her good wing. _

_Severus backed away from the frantic female, and saw that she was weakening. The words in his head were growing smaller and less coherent, and Severus had no doubt that the words were coming from the oversized eagle owl female. Then, a bundle of grey-brown fluff fell out of the nest. The female snarled at him, and he ignored her. He caught the baby, who gave the static hiss at him again. The mother and chick looked at each other, and soon the baby was snuggled up against Severus. The mother then died, leaving her chick with Severus. _

"Alright, Sheik," Severus said, petting the great owl's head. He was amazed at the longevity of the owl, and the sheer size. He was male, and weighed almost a full four kilograms, while normal females weighed that size and males were usually much smaller than females.

_Huuuuuuuur,_ the owl replied in a long hoot, clacking his beak at the end of the sound. He looked deeply into Severus' eyes, and held out one leg. Severus tied the letter he had written to it, and stroked the mighty predator between the eyes and down the back. Sheik butted his head against Severus' hand, and the dour man chuckled slightly before scratching Sheik's ear-tufts. The owl closed his eyes lazily, and drew the leg un-laden with mail deep into his feathery underbelly, crooning in response with a low _hhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrr._

When Severus finally came up from his dungeons with Sheik, he went out into the bright sunlight and flung the owl skywards in a smooth cast. The bird buffeted his wings, managing not to hit Severus. When he was high overhead, he gave a low shriek, and flew off southeast.

* * *

Minerva stepped off of the bus, looking up at the house that Moody had bought not too long ago. It was not excessively large, nor too small to hold the three of them. It had two bedrooms and an old fashioned nursery, and in the back was a carriage house that had been converted into a Muggle garage. She was now going by the name Valerie Paige, the wife of the reclusive Muggle man, Victor Paige. They lived with their grandson in Melbourne, and never went into the Magical society once in their lives.

"Gama! Gama!" Horace cried in a high-pitched squeal. The seven-year-old was able to speak very clearly, yet continued to call his grandparents Gama and Bawpa. Valerie swept him up in a swirl, planting a kiss on his cheek, causing him to giggle and wipe his hand messily across his cheek. "Lyuck! Please, Gama, no kisses!"

"No kisses?!" Minerva cried in mock offence. "Well, then, I'll just have to give you extra hugs then!"

"Fine enough. I love you, Gama."

"I love you too, Horace."

"Ah, Valerie!" a voice called. A man came down, his face having been severely changed by Muggle cosmetic plastic surgery, and he now looked again like the handsome man who had entered the Auror academy long ago. His missing leg was replaced by a prosthetic, and his missing eye was replaced by a magically altered glass eye. It had even been dyed in the same exact shade as his natural eye, giving the impression of two fully-functional eyes, much less the fact that his glass eye could move the same as his natural eye.

"Hello, Victor," she called up to him. He came down the stairs, walking much better with the prosthetic than with his peg leg. He smiled at her, and his Romanesque features were augmented by his deep black hair and tanned skin that contrasted his white teeth. She snaked an arm about his back as he came down, and guided him to the parlor. "So, what happened today? Horace didn't have school. What did you two do?"

"Valerie, Horace made his work combust today," Victor said softly. He looked deep into her eyes, his stern expression belied by the amused gleam in his natural eye. "I also got a ring today from the school. Horace has apparently been climbing on the school roof. He admitted to me that he was being chased by bullies, and that he had somehow 'Just appeared' on the roof."

"Apparating at seven?" Valerie gasped. "At _seven_?! Not even Dumbledore was able to do that! My God, he will be one _strong_ wizard!"

"I don't know. I think he may be a Mage yet."

"A—a Mage?! Are you serious?" Valerie asked softly.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telontar: What do you think?**_

_**Balrog: You left us at a cliffhanger. And what's a Mage?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: They can use the Earth's powers to augment their own.**_

_**Balrog: Very interesting. **_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Well, this should be interesting. It answers a few questions, and poses even more.**_

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**Balrog: Uh-huh. I'll pretend I understand.**

* * *

"What?" Valerie asked softly. "A Mage? The last Mage was… were… those two Mages, the Chinese fellow and that Russian fellow. They're myths though… And Merlin, and Mordred, and, and, the Horned Lord that Muggles used to worship… Horace can't be a Mage, Victor. Mages are a lost breed! They're—"

"Valerie," Victor snapped softly. His outside may have been smoothed over quite a bit, however he still had that ridiculous paranoia, Valerie thought absently as she lost herself in his pale silver-blue eyes. "Valerie, are you listening to me?"

"Oh! Yes, of course I am, Victor. It's just that I can't…"

"Think of Horace as simply a powerful child then, Val. Don't worry." Victor smiled and enfolded her in his arms. "I'm sure everything will work out."

"Yes. Raising a Mage can't be much different from raising a Wizard."

"A rather precocious one though," Victor smiled, touching the very tip of her nose.

"Go on, you two! Snog somewhere else!" Horace snapped at the two of them. Victor scowled at him, and Valerie smiled, tugging Victor's arm to get him up the stairs and into their shared bedroom.

* * *

Sheik used the air currents to mask his progress as he glided softly over the French countryside. The town of _Domrémy-la-Pucelle_was small, and though visitors often flocked to the town, especially tourists, none of them were interested in the old man in the small home half the town away from the fabled Joan of Arc. The owl perched on the roof of the ancient Frenchman, looking over the entire village while he waited. Then, the old man flung open the window, and Sheik flew inside. "Bonsoir. Maintenant qui pourrait m'envoyer le poste entièrement de l'Angleterre ? J'ai cru que ma maison était sûre! Donnez-moi cette lettre, l'oiseau! Avancez! Continuez maintenant, je ne veux pas que vous restiez ici! Je ne vais pas donner une réponse! Allez maintenant!" _(Good evening. Now who could be sending me post all the way from England? I thought that my home was secure! Give me that letter, bird! Come on! Now go on, I don't want you to stay here! I'm not going to give a response! Now go!) _the Frenchman growled at Sheik. The owl hooted defiantly and hissed at the old man. The letter was opened, and the old man read it. "Bloody bleeding Hell! Albus! Damnit, you idiot!" the man snarled in a thick French accent. "It's that Kelly. He's got to be behind this! Come here, bird." The man held out his arm for the Sheik, who hopped on it. Then, the man pirouetted swiftly, Apparating to the edge of the Hogwarts wards. Still cursing in five or six different languages, the man stalked up to the gates and blasted them open with raw elemental power. As he stormed in, he boosted Sheik into the air. Sheik rounded a curve and flew down the stairs into his aerie, the nest that he and his human shared. He flapped at the wall, landing on a statue of a brooding gargoyle, and shrieked at the closed wall. When it didn't open for him, he hissed, and then the wall opened as his human stepped out. "Sheik, you're back," his human said, holding open the wall for the mighty owl to fly in. He perched on his block perch, and then saw the three live mice below it, a containment charm keeping them from fleeing. After eating, Sheik settled down on his block perch, lifted one of his legs, and snuggled down in his feathers to sleep. Dumbledore awoke slowly, his head pounding. He saw his friend Nicholas Flamel over him, pushing his Elemental Magyk into him. "Wh—where am I?" he croaked. "Hogwarts, my friend," Flamel assured him. "What happened?" Albus tried to sit up, and groaned from his weakness. "We were hoping you could tell us," Poppy said, coming into Albus' field of vision. "You were entertaining another Elemental, a Kelly from what I heard—" "Kelly?!" Flamel gasped. "Merde. Baiser, Dieu fichu cela! Merde," the ancient alchemist cursed. "Kelly has his hooks in you, mon ami. He will use you like a puppeteer, and then throw you away. Mon ami, you are caler merde. _(Merde—Shit. Baiser—Fuck. Dieu fichu cela!—God damn it! Mon ami—my friend. Caler merde—in deep shit)_ Poppy's eyes had gone wide with the pronouncement of what Kelly had done. Dumbledore on the other hand, knew that his ablility to think for himself had long since vanished if Kelly could hold him so easily. A spike of pain, sharp and hot, drove through his brain. Albus cried out loudly, clutching his head.

"Ne vous inquiétez pas, mon ami. Je vous protégerai," _(Do not worry, my friend. I will keep you safe.)_ Nicholas whispered. "The paths of evil that Kelly walked are now being burned away. Rest, my friend. Dorment mon ami, la paix assistent à vous, à la longueur de la nuit. Dieu d'anges gardiens enverra vous, à la longueur de la nuit. Mou les heures assoupies dorment, la Colline et le vallon dans le sommeil dormant I ma montre d'ami se conserve, À la longueur de la nuit." The lullaby that Flamel had been singing slowly lulled Albus into a sleep. He didn't awaken until the next week, but dreamed of fires in his mind, and of paths being choked by greenery then burned so nothing remained.

* * *

Severus Snape stood in the Hogsmeade post office, looking up at all of the owls. One of them caught his eye, a creature that looked larger than it should. It had the shape of a barn owl, yet was twice that owl's size and pitch black.

"Where's your letter going, Professor?" the postal worker asked.

"I'm not sure. It's meant for Minerva McGonagall."

"Good show. Oi, blackie!" the worker called. The black owl hooted and hissed in response, mantling its wings. "Get yer tailfeathers over here, yeh lump o' poultry!" The insults didn't faze the large bird, but it soared down anyways, plucked the letter out of the worker's hands without waiting for it to be tied, and swept out of the window, dodging the worker's Stunners and Summons. The worker began to curse and spit at the owl, and yet nothing worked and soon the bird was far out of sight.

* * *

Valerie McPhearson sat on the couch. She held the letter in her hand, the letter that was sent by the McGonagalls of England. It had the family crest, with the Knight looking left, his huge blue and yellow plume, and the shield with the rampant eagle on it. She slowly opened it, and found a letter from her cousin. He was her father's elder brother's son, and the right Clan Chief of Clan McGonagall. And the letter was to inform her that he had no children, and that he had an advanced stage of prostate cancer. He was dying, and couldn't have children. He had chosen her as his heir. Valerie cursed. She would have to go by her maiden name, and by her birth name of Minerva.

Victor looked over. "What is it?" he asked. The transformation had also affected his voice, as now he had a lovely baritone voice with hardly a growl in it.

"James, my first cousin and the Laird and Chieftain of the McGonagall Clan, has named me as his successor," she said, looking up at her husband. "So now I have to come out as Minerva McGonagall, the Heir of the Clan McGonagall. I can't just shrug this off, Victor!" Both winced as a blast of sound erupted from the upstairs rooms.

"He's at it again," Victor groaned before the phone rang. Victor picked it up, and consoled the person on the other side. "All of Melbourne can apparently hear those pipes, Val. The Silencing Charms must be wearing off." He went upstairs, and soon the sound stopped. When Victor returned, he explained that he had been Silencing their grandson's room.

"Victor, if we—if I—When James dies, then I'll be the Lady of the McGonagalls. Harry will be my Heir. He has to be." Valerie slumped against the seat.

Both jumped, Victor with wand in hand, as they heard a clattering from the fireplace. A large Greater Sooty Owl thudded to the fire grate, shook itself off, and hopped into the living room, leaving sooty footprints. It handed Valerie a letter that was soot and rain stained, and had questionable things on the envelope. She opened it, and found a missive from Severus.

"Good Merlin," she breathed. "Dumbledore's been brainwashed!"

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I hope you are all okay with this chapter!**_

_**Balrog: And if we're not?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Glares)**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Celebwen Telcontar: And here we get to the meat of the story! A new letter, a new people, and whatnot! Please remember, Valerie is Minerva McGonagall, and Victor is Mad-Eye Moody.**_

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**CT.**

* * *

"Brainwashed?!" Victor yelped. Valerie nodded. A wisp of her graying black hair escaped from its constricting bun, and fell in a curl about her ear. Victor pushed it back. "What do you mean?"

"He's been brainwashed by Edward Kelly. Kelly was—is—an alchemist who worked with the Philosopher's Stone in the late 16th Century. Apparently, either he approached Dumbledore, or Dumbledore approached him. From what Severus writes, Dumbledore has about the brain power of a rutabaga at the moment, from being freed from Kelly's influence."

"Who freed him?" Victor asked.

"Flamel. Severus knew that only Elementals can work with the Stone, and also knew that Kelly's element is Water while Flamel's is Fire. Albus' is Earth, and so that's why it held to Kelly's Water element."

"That makes sense. Earth and Water are compatible, as are Fire and Air. Air and Earth are not compatible, and neither are Fire and Water."

"Grandmother, Grandfather," a voice called from the top of the steps. The eight year old boy looked down, his small bagpipe in his arms. "Who is James McGonagall?"

"Where did you hear about him, Harry?" Valerie called up.

"I got a letter. It's from someone named Phelan O'Connor."

"Phelan," Valerie whispered. She looked at her grandson. "Bring it here please." As Harry brought the letter down, another owl flew into the room. It bore a letter with the McGonagall Crest and Seal on it, and proclaimed the death of Laird James McGonagall and the titling of Lady Minerva McGonagall. Harry handed the letter, identical to Valerie's, to his grandmother.

"Who's Phelan?" Victor asked.

"A friend. He was the man who raised me, practically. He was a wizard, and Father's bodyguard. Being the brother to a magical Laird of a Scottish Clan is a risky life. Magical Clan Leaders are a lot more actual leaders than their Muggle counterparts. You see, a Clan has two leaders, a Muggle leader and a Magical leader in order to deal with both sides of the people. The Lairds have each other as their direct Heirs, and so I am under Stephen McGonagall, a distant cousin. I now have the duties of Heir of the Muggle McGonagall line and the true Lady of the Magical side." She lowered the letter.

"You're a Lady?" Harry asked.

"I'm a Lady, Harry. You are the Heir to the McGonagalls, Horace James Evan McGonagall McPhearson."

"Righteous!" Harry cried out. Valerie looked slightly disturbed at her grandson's use of the out-of-use Hippie language.

"How did he learn 1960's American slang?" Valerie asked rhetorically.

* * *

He could feel the mental issues his Bonded was going through. It was painful for both of them, and Fawkes couldn't think because of it. The grand phoenix shook his head, trilling in annoyance. The tears he had shed for his Bonded had done nothing as Albus had slipped farther and farther into a coma and was not responding to anything. The group had foregone Hogwarts, and now Albus was at St. Mungo's. They had put Fawkes at Albus' bedside, and Severus was constantly trying to brew some antidote to what Kelly had done to the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"What happened to him?" a Healer asked the dour Potions Master.

"He is an Earth Elemental, and was controlled by a Water Elemental. A Fire Elemental seared the channels closed, and since then he has awoken once."

"Elementals. They're not my study, but I guess I can try. Has anyone thought to bring in another Elemental to seal the Channels?"

"No. Elementals are rare, at best, and I think that the three of them are the only ones alive." Fawkes trilled at this. He could sense other Elementals, and knew that he had to get an Earth Elemental, the strongest he possibly could, to save his Bonded's life and sanity. With a shriek, he left the hospital room.

He reappeared in a neat bedroom, the walls a dusky green, leaves of every shade of green on the ceiling, letting in what looked to be natural light through the leaves as though it was a canopy of a forest. A boy yelped from the side of the wood where there was a large opening, a door. Fawkes cocked his head to the side, chirping.

"Hullo, bird. What do you want?" the boy asked. Fawkes flew down to him, and perched on his shoulders, then Flashed with the boy to St. Mungo's.

* * *

"Valerie!" Victor cried, running down the stairs. "Harry's missing! And there's a Fire Elemental signature in his room!" Valerie cursed in several languages, and then raced upstairs. As a master of Transfiguration, she was able to see what and where the Elemental person or creature had gone with her grandson.

She stood in the center of the forest that was Harry's room, flicking her wand. A ghostly image of a phoenix appearing in the room then disappearing with Harry told her all she needed to know. Fawkes had appeared, kidnapped Harry, and left. Valerie cursed in three separate languages, and then ran back downstairs.

"Val, what—?" Victor began.

"Fawkes. He kidnapped Harry." Victor cursed, then grabbed his wife's arm and rushed her out into the courtyard. He cast a Dissolution spell on himself and Valerie, grabbed the saddle, flung it on, and transformed into his Animagus form. Valerie scrambled into the saddle, quickly strapping herself in. Then, darkness engulfed her.

* * *

Victor felt his form shift and encompass his saddle before feeling Valerie climb in and secure herself. He then pulled on his faint Elemental ability, melding with the earth beneath him. This was a very different form of transport than Apparation, and far chancier as well. Elemental travel was able to be used only in dire emergencies, and only in an Elemental form. The form of a long-extinct Pterosaur was an Earth form, as were all other pre-human creatures.

He melted his body down to the earth, and let the Element bring him in. He felt the pressure of the soil above him as the Earth brought him down to a level just above the mantle. As he was an Earth Elemental and had spoken to the Earth on Valerie's behalf, they were both safe from the heat. Victor surged forward, not precicely flying through the Earth, however moving very quickly. It was almost like Apparation, not quite as fast though.

With a screech that seemed to almost shatter windows, the vengeful Auror erupted from the ground. A barking nearby alerted him to the Groundskeeper and his new puppy. Victor leapt from the shattered ground, and flew over the grounds of Hogwarts towards St. Mungo's.

As he landed, he gripped the edge of the magical hospital with his talons, as though he was holding on to the edge of an aerie. He folded his wings as best as he could, and squawked. The resounding cry bit through the cold air, causing Muggles to look up. Victor being Disillusioned, the bird was impossible to see. As the mighty pterodactyl perched on the hospital, Valerie morphed into her feline form, leaping off of her husband's back and onto the roof. She found an air duct that she could crawl through, and soon was inside the magical hospital.

* * *

The bird sqawked at Harry, who yelped. Where was he? He wasn't at home anymore, and he was somewhere else.

_:I need your help, young fledgeling:_ the bird said directly into his mind. _:My Bonded is dying, and you can help him.:_

"How can I help your friend, bird?"

_:You are a Mage. You work the Earth magics, and thus can fill in the erosion in my Bonded's mind. Place your hands on his temples.:_ Harry followed the bird's enstructions, and soon was on a large dirt plain. Several canals and channels had been dug with what looked to be water, forming deltas and floodplains.

"What do I do now?" Harry asked.

_:Take the earth and smooth it out. There shouldn't be any rivers.:_

"I see. And how do I do that?"

_:Imagine the earth as a flat plain, and it will be so.:_ Harry shrugged, and imagined a flat plain. The earth was going to be smooth, with a few pock marks where stones and different things were. A burrow was in the middle with a rabbit family in it. Grass and plants sprouted, sending their seeds flying in the air. The bird sneezed, fluffing his wings. Then, Harry was back at the hospital, the bird glaring at him.

"Huh?" the elderly man asked. He looked up, his eyes bright. "I... Chirp! Chirp! Dee-dee!" The man continued to make some rather odd avian sounds, and soon progressed to a strange peeping that came from a tail-less, rat-like mammal that was related to a rabbit and lived in rocky areas.

"What on Earth?" Harry said.

_:What did you do?:_ the bird asked him.

"I did what you asked me to do! I filled in the channels, started grass growing, and everything else!"

:You started grass growing there? Oh, no. He's going to communicate with every living being now! The grass undoubtedly hides animals and insects as well! Which means that he won't get a seconds worth of his own thoughts!:

"What?"

_:He can't block out the thoughts of others, young one, and now you have made him know the thoughts of every living creature! My Bonded is going to go insane!:_

* * *

**Celebwen Telcontar: In case you didn't notice, the bird was Fawkes. By Bonded, he means Dumbledore. And a Mage means that one has the ability to manipulate all of the elements, however has one element open to manipulation more than the others.**

_**Balrog: I see. Please continue.**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Celebwen Telcontar: This is going to be interesting. A menagerie, in any case.**_

_**Balrog: A zoo, you mean.**_

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**Celebwen Telcontar: Verily. Anyways, here it is! Thank you to all of my reviewers!**

* * *

Hippocrates Smethwyck walked steadilly down the hallway. His shift was nearly over, and so far nothing major had happened, just a little Muggleborn girl had her hand amputated at the elbow by accident when she got in the way of a Muggle chain saw. The arm was easy to reattach, and that had been the hardest part of the day. The girl was fine, and her Muggle parents would be Obliviated, as would she. They could possibly be re-informed when she went to Hogwarts.

Loud, strange avian sounds came from down the hall, andHippocrates groaned. Now what? It sounded like a tropical bird had somehow gotten into the hospital! The bird's cries were coming from the long-term care ward. Hopefully it wasn't the mindless Gilderoy Lockhart who was doing that. They had enough trouble with his fan mail alone! Steeling himself to the situation, Hippocrates entered. He was gifted with the appearance of a perfectly insane Professor Albus Dumbledore, who was currently making a fool of himself by crowing at Professor Flitwick. The mad Headmaster looked at Hippocrates, and screeched like a rhesus monkey, then bounded for the open door, using the lintel as the aforementioned animal would use a tree branch to swing himself out. He landed on all fours, and scampered down the hall, Hippocrates looking after him as though he had grown a second head. Then he regained his sense, and ran down the hall, firing off spells to subdue the crazy old man.

The Headmaster was more agile than his age showed, and he dodged every spell. Hippoocrates was caught by a rebounded leg-locker, and quickly dissipated it. He ran after Albus Dumbledore, grumbling suggestions that the old Headmaster do several highly improbable, athletically difficult, biologically impractical things involving several household items and a dead fish. Dumbledore replied with a snarl reminiscent of a furious jaguar, now moving down the hall in a distinctively feline lope.

Hippocrates rounded a corner, dodged a gaggle of mediwizards, and came face-to-face with an absolutely livid housecat, arching its back, puffing its tail, bristling, and laying its ears back. It let loose a furious snarl, the cat backed the spitting, hissing and growling Headmaster, now on all fours and replying to the angry cat in kind, into the corner. A boy of about eight leapt past the Healer clapping both hands to Dumbledore's temples.

* * *

The old man's mind was a riot of animals. It looked to Harry like a massive jungle playing host to Noah's Arc. Harry looked about, trying to think of what could possibly get rid of that many animals.

"Shoo! Go on! Leave!" he barked at the menagerie. The bird would _kill_ him if he left the old man's mind like this. The animals vanished, however the jungle still remained, though perfectly silent, and while it was hot, the heat was saturating. Harry quickly plowed the plants under the soil with his magic, and turned the soil into sand. Since there was still quite a bit of moisture in the air, perhaps a traditional desert would be a good idea. It could morph into a large field rather than the rainforest in his mind beforehand.

Dry, red earth stretched in every direction, blocked to the West by a massive mountain. Harry's eyebrows lifted. He didn't realize that the desert would be the Northwest of his own home in Australia. As he watched, a black-flanked wallaby hopped over in the side of his vision. To the East, Harry could clearly see the Great Dividing Range, meaning that the desert wasn't a simple place in Australia, but where one could see several land features. Silhouetted against the sky on the top of a rise to the North, he saw a horse, which moved down followed by an entire herd. Harry snorted. He didn't want the Headmaster to act like a feral Brumby, especially one as mad as the black herd stallion of the famed Demon Herd in the Snowy Mountains. Repent was what the stallion was called in the old-timer's stories, and came from a half-wild stallion whose ancestry went clear back to America and some racing filly who won the Kentucky Derby in 1915.

But this wasn't what he was here for! Why was his mind wandering about horse racing when he was in some old coot's head? Harry jumped about five or so feet above the ground as a bird appeared in midair. It was the same talking bird as before.

_:Australia's better than Brazil:_ the bird said.

"I'm not finished," Harry replied. He used his magic to transform the place into a barnyard. He didn't think he could entirely remove all animals, so he decided to center it all on one that the man's mind chose. Then, when the fuzziness cleared, Harry was staring at a larger-than-normal bird. It had a dignified comb on its head, and a wattle. The feathers were a deep scarlet, and its dark eyes were bright, the arcing tail feathers fading from scarlet to ebony. He withdrew from the man's mind, and saw the man staring at him happily.

"Thank you, Harry," the man said.

"How do you know my name?"

"Because I know who you are—_Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo!" _the old man crowed, loudly, in the midst of a sentence. "Forgive me, please! That's worse than a sneeze!"

"If you'll excuse me," Harry said, scooping the cat in the hallway up and feeling her talons sink into his arm. He clutched her close, and felt the nasty feeling of being apparated. They appeared on the edge of the roof, where his grandmother transformed back into a human.

"What did you do?" the two of them asked. Harry repeated his experiences for them, finishing with, "And then I changed him into what I think is a Rhode Island Red."

"You changed the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Supreme Mugwump, leader of the Wizengamot, defeater of Grindlewald, into a _chicken_??" Valerie asked.

"Yep."

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: So what do you think of the new chicken?**_

_**Balrog: Distinctly odd. Why a chicken?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: You'll just have to wait and see.**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Jaw drops) 6909 hits?! Good gracious me...I'm popular! Well, to deflate my now rather large head and ego, this chapter should be interesting.**_

_**Balrog: Howso?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Just watch. And watch for lawyers while your at it, will you? I can't afford a lawsuit. **_

_**Balrog: Then just put in a disclaimer! Folks, Celebwen does not own Harry Potter!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Just read, you inverted dragon!**_

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**CT**

* * *

It had been a very long day. After Victor had gone to the hospital, finding out that his shoulders were sprained to the doctor's confusion, the man was bound up and sent home. Valerie had forbidden her husband to get up even, and had their new House Elf, Jabber, bring him all his meals. The man of the house hated every minute of it.

She closed her eyes to get a good look at her past. Immediately and for no foreseeable reason, it went to her first lover. The boy she had met and fell in love with in Hogwarts. He was the Head Boy, and she the Head Girl. They had shared a large suite, accessable to all four houses, and dear Tom had been a very good lover. Very good. Valerie felt herself remember those nights, and felt her face heating up. They had studied becoming Animagi at the same time, and Tom's form was a snake. Not just any snake, but a basilisk. That had cued her to his true nature late in their Seventh year. Then Tom had run off, becoming the hated and feared Nameless One as some people called him. She preferred to use "You Know Who" other than other ridiculous nominatives, and never used the name "Tom" to describe him except in the past.

Valerie groaned. Her desk was full of paperwork that she had to finish, and all of it was _important_ or _Do not wait until after supper to do this_. This was what she had gotten into by being the only child of Dean McGonagall, brother of Sean McGonagall, who was the father of the previous Laird of the McGonagall Clan. And now this _madness _was what she was leaving to Harry. He would have enough on his plate being the Boy-Who-Lived, even if no one ever knew that. She ran her hands through her now-silvered red hair, and tied it back in a ponytail to get back to work on the paperwork, and to stop reliving her old school days.

"Grandma!" a voice called. The door to her study slammed open, and Harry stood there, in full parade dress, kilt and bloused shirt, cloak pin and sporran included. Under his arm was a small version of Scottish Highland bagpipes. "I can play Scotland the Brave!" The boy placed the chanter's reed in his mouth, and began to blow. A dry, reedy deep throated whistle escaped from the drones, before it steadied to a deep bellow, and he began to play the pipe.

_Hark when the night is falling,_

_Hear, hear, the pipes are calling, _

_Loudly and proudly calling, _

_Down through the glen, _

_There where the hills are sleeping, _

_Now feel the blood a' leaping, _

_High as the spirits of the old Highland men._

* * *

_Towering in gallant fame, _

_Scotland my mountain hame, _

_High may your proud standards gloriously wave, _

_Land of my high endeavors, _

_Land of the shining river, _

_Land of my heart forever, _

_Scotland the brave._

* * *

_High in the misty highlands, _

_Down by the purple islands, _

_Proud are the hearts that beat _

_Beneath Scottish skies,_

_Wild are the winds to meet you, _

_Staunch are the friends that greet you, _

_Fierce as the light that shines from fair maiden's eyes._

* * *

_Towering in gallant fame, _

_Scotland my mountain hame, _

_High may your proud standards gloriously wave, _

_Land of my high endeavor, _

_Land of the shining river, _

_Land of my heart forever, _

_Scotland the brave._

* * *

_Far off in sunlit places, _

_Sad are the Scottish faces, _

_Yearning to feel the kiss _

_Of sweet Scottish rain, _

_Where tropic skies are gleaming, _

_Love sets the heart a' beaming, _

_Longing and yearning for the homeland again._

* * *

_Towering in gallant fame, _

_Scotland my mountain hame, _

_High may your proud standards gloriously wave, _

_Land of my high endeavor, _

_Land of the shining river, _

_Land of my heart forever, _

_Scotland the brave._

The droning of the pipes faded, and Valerie's eyes were moist as she saw her homeland in Scotland again with the playing of the Scottish song. It set her heart a-glow, and she took the young lad out to help him to keep from whistling when he started playing.

"That was excelent, Harry. I don't think I've heard a professional play better than that."

"Really?" Harry asked. He stared at her, eyes wide.

"Really. Now can I please get some work done? I've been with you for three weeks trying to get your supplies for Hogwarts, and I can't leave this any more. The mac Dubh's are ready to declare blood-feud on the Campbell's and the McGonagall's because of their Laird's incarceration, the McClains have managed to lose every member of their Laird's family, both magical and Muggle and are seeking shelter form us, and a thousand other things."

"Alright, alright! I'll get out of your fur!" Harry cried in a laugh.

* * *

Harry pulled his pipes close to him, holding them carefully. He left the room long enough to put his pipe away, then left the house. The Magical section of Melbourne would easily recognize him as a Wizard, an any Muggles would recognize the kilt and finery as of noble origins. He placed his flat bonnet on his head, made sure that the sprig of thistle was in place, and walked down the street.

* * *

The blonde woman walked down Ayer's Alley, the magical section of Melbourne, and saw a young boy in finery that screamed his heratige as a close family member of a Wizard's Clan. His tartan was a deep green with some purples and blues, signifying of the McGonagall Clan. This could be young Horace McGonagall, Valerie's Heir.

"Hello," she said softly. "Can I help you with something?" The boy turned around, and his gleaming ultra-bright blue eyes and curly black hair caught her heart for a moment. He was so adorable! And with his finery, he looked to make Draco seem a peasant!

"No, thank you, ma'am," he replied, heading into a bookshop. Narcissa trailed him subtly, hiding in the beams of light when he looked her direction. He looked up at a large tome, and looked about for some help. Narcissa came up, taking the heavy book off of the shelf and handing it to him with a smile.

"Here you are, sweetie. What's your name?"

"Thank you, Ma'am. My name is Horace McPhaerson, Ma'am."

"McPhaerson?" Narcissa said, looking at his tartan.

"Yes. The tartan is my grandmother's Clan colours, Ma'am."

"I see. You must be young Horace McGonagall, Lady Valerie McGonagall's Heir."

"Yes, Ma'am. Now may I please inquire as to your presence?"

"I was wondering about why you're here, Horace. And please call me Nari."

"I do not believe that it is of consequence to you to have knowledge of my actions, Ma'am."

"Nari, please. I am Narcissa mac Dubh."

"I see. The niece of Laird Castor and Lady Deneb mac Dubh?"

"Yes."

"Cousin to their infamous firstborn?"

"Yes, indeed. I am however not in league with young Sirius. Don't worry, Horace, I'm not out to hurt you."

"How can I be certain of that?" Harry asked. He pulled his back into perfect straightness, reminding Narcissa of her son Draco.

"You can." Her accent she had aquired when she stayed for a time in England came out.

"Are you sure of that? Sassanach?" the boy asked. Narcissa took a step back. To a Scot, born and bred, that word was like a slap in the face. The boy obviously didn't trust her. To be called "English" in such a foul manner… Being called an "Outlander" from her homeland… it was disgraceful! She would get her revenge on this impudent little bug soon enough.

"_Outlander, am I?"_ Narcissa replied in a Gaelic hiss. _"You'll see what an Outlander can do, born and bred in the thistle and heather. Watch yourself, Son of Gonagall. I am Narcissa Black, and you do not cross me easily."_ Narcissa whirled around, storming off. She shouldn't have said all that to the little child, however young McGonagall needed to learn that politics was a dangerous game, and to insult a high mac Dubh was not a good thing to do. She would have fun with her vengeance.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: So, what do you think of this?**_

_**Balrog: Why mac Dubh?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Mac Dubh I think means "Son of the Dark One", which would fit the creator of the Black family line. **_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Celebwen Telcontar: This will be interesting. Young Harry is an Animagus in this one!**_

_**Balrog: Celebwen! Help! I'm being killed by lawyers!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Alright… I don't own Harry Potter, you lawyers! Fine! How can you tell the difference between a lawyer and a lab rat? Easy, even the rat won't carry some diseases!**_

__

**Lawyers: (Grumble about bad jokes and wander off aimlessly.)**

The woman sat at her desk, swamped with work. She wished that she was still a teacher, and not the Lady of the McGonagall Clan, entrenched in McGonagall Hall in the remote Scottish Highlands. A brightly colored bird, about the size of a magpie, flapped in the open window. Unlike a normal bird, this one had claws on its wings; its tail had vertebrae in it, and the beak had teeth and resembled a lizard's snout rather than a bird's beak. It landed on the back of the chair across from her desk, tilting its head inquisitively, and chirruped adorably. The claws, resembling a dinosaur more than anything else, latched onto the back of the wooden chair. Valerie's eyebrows flew up.

"Harry?" she asked. The bird chirped again, and then morphed into a ten-year-old lad, falling into the chair with a thump.

"Hello, Grandmother."

"I see that your grandfather taught you to be an Animagus."

"He did. This is my Earth/Air form. Grandfather explained that I have more Air than he does."

"Which would explain the feathers. Now, when he said that it was your Earth/Air form, did he explain anything else?"

"Not really."

"I see. Typical. Anyways, every human has element control. Muggles have very little, and all of it is balanced so that they cannot seize control of any elements. Wizards and witches sometimes have an ability to handle one or two elements. Your grandfather can take Earth and Air. I can handle Mystery and Dark, which explains my cat form. You, on the other hand, can control each Element there is. The form you were in was Earth because it is an extinct creature, and air because it can fly."

"But why would an extinct creature be Earth?"

"Because their bones are part of the Earth now and so they represent a heavy control over the Earth's elements. Now, when you transformed, you were thinking of the Earth and possibly the Air as well. Think in the same way of Fire and Air." Harry closed his eyes, and soon the mildly dusky office was showered with bright firelight. The chair caught fire, and a small baby bird was on it, screaming and chirping in pain. Valerie shot a water charm at the flaming chair, and scooped up the bird. The baby had a wrinkled body, and squinted up at her with one of Harry's natural green eyes. Normally, with the charm that Valerie had put on the boy when she was Minerva, Harry's eyes were blue. With a chirp, the baby Phoenix transformed into a large, beautiful pure black timber wolf. He barked, then sat down and scratched his ear vigorously before transforming into a sylph. The air elemental gave a strange bell-like tone, and then the creature changed back into the Archaeopteryx that it previously had masqueraded as. "You're going to give me a headache, Harry," Valerie said. Harry reappeared on the floor, holding his own head.

"I already gave myself one," he moaned. His kilt was skewed, and his ponytail was pulled to one side. He looked at himself. "I don't look too much like an Heir, do I, Grandmother?"

"No you don't, Harry." There was a knock on the door as she spoke, and a young woman poked her head in.

"My Lady, there's a gentleman here to speak with you about asylum."

"Alright, send him in. Harry, you might want to become something else. You don't look rather lordly right now." With a cheeky wink, Harry transformed back into an Archaeopteryx, perching on the fireplace mantle. The door opened, and in stepped the last person she was expecting to see. Severus Snape stood the requisite eight paces from the desk, and bowed before proceeding.

"My Lady," he intoned. "I, Severus Aurelius Hadrian Prince Snape, formally seek asylum with the McGonagall Clan." The Potions Master then continued until he was four feet from the desk, and stood, hands behind his back. His face was an expression of pure blandness, and yet there was a spark of desperation in his eyes.

"Please, take a seat. Do you beg for asylum for yourself or for the Clan Prince?"

"For myself. I no longer wish to be a member of Clan Prince." Severus' face was completely unemotional. Usually when people changed Clans, they had a good reason, and showed their hatred or disgust of former Clan members, or sorrow at their Clan's death or at their own ostracism. Severus, on the other hand, showed no emotions on his aquiline face.

"Alright. Please fill this paperwork out. It is a form giving you admittance into the Clan McGonagall." The Hogwarts Professor took a quill on her desk, an eagle quill, and began to fill out the work.

As he finished the forms, Valerie decided on a course of action. "Severus, I trust you completely. You have proven yourself trustworthy."

"I… thank you?" he said in a question. The archaeopteryx on the mantle looked at her and squawked, gliding down to the floor. Severus' eyebrows flew skywards. "May I inquire…?"

"Yes, you may. This is my grandson, whom is a Mage. I formally ask you to be a tutor for him in the Water and Darkness Elements. He already knows Air and Earth, as my husband is of the Earth and the Air," Valerie said, all but pleading.

"I am grateful for such an opportunity, My Lady, however I must ask as to why you trust me so implicitly." Valerie let her illusion drop, and was herself once again. "Minerva! You weren't married, much less a mother, and how are you a grandmother?" The crow-sized bird on the floor squawked again, and morphed into himself, righting his hair then his kilt.

"Severus, this is Horace McGonagall, my grandson and Heir. I removed him from Surry. Severus, please meet Horace McGonagall, formerly known as Harry Potter."

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I know, I'm mean. However, this was the best place to stop it!**_

_**Balrog: You're giving them a cliffhanger.**_

_**CelebwenTelcontar: I know.**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Now we get to Severus' reaction! Have fun!**_

_**Balrog: Stop it right there. I'm going to call the lawyers if you don't own up to plagiarism.**_

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**Celebwen Telcontar: What? You want to… You'll be out of a job! Balrog! Fine, I don't own Harry Potter! Balrog, come back, you inverted dragon!**

* * *

"What?!" Severus snapped, looking confused and appalled.

"What is wrong?" the young Heir inquired. "I assure you that I did not dispel the Evil One. My mother was a Fire Elemental, and my father an Earth Elemental. They shielded me from the wrath of the Evil One to their own destruction." Severus looked thoroughly confused.

"Please, Severus, if not for me, then for Lily's sake," Valerie pleaded.

"Perhaps," the Potions Master said. "He looks nothing like his arrogant father. I was given to believe that they were clones."

"When I removed him from his relatives' home, we performed the—"

"You _kidnapped_ the _Boy-Who-Lived_?!" Severus said, sounding shocked. Valerie could see an amused sparkle in the man's dark eyes and his frown lines grew deeper, as if suppressing a smile. "Minerva, what happened to you?! You used to be the epitome of Gryffindor, and now you're doing something like this! Given, it is a rash stunt only a Gryffindor could think of pulling off, but you, kidnapping the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"I loved both Lily and James as my own children, and I couldn't leave Harry with those awful Muggles. They probably would have put him in an orphanage!"

"Hmmm. Can you tell me why the Headmaster has been acting like a common Muggle chicken?" Severus asked in a rapid change of topic.

"Harry did it. I think he didn't mean to do it, but he says he did it to keep him from going insane." The aforementioned boy looked up at his grandmother, a question in his eyes, however he didn't voice it.

"I beg your pardon sir," Harry put in as Valerie gave him some space to do so. "I changed his mental pathways to reflect his Earth Elemental and not the Water that the other man had running through his mind."

"Other man?" Severus asked.

"Edward Kelly. A Water Elemental, and apparently having quite a bit of control over the Headmaster."

"I see. And the chicken?"

"It is his Animagus form. He is simply tied closer to it than others are to their's. The reason for this is because the chicken guards the formerly cut channels in the Headmaster's brain. If I did not cause the chicken to guard, then he would be fully insane and impossible to revive."

"I see…" Severus said softly.

"Why do you keep changing the topic?" Valerie asked, just now noticing that he was doing so.

"Pardon, Minerva. I have Potions students to teach."

"And this is summer. For—"

"Summer is the only time I get away from sniveling brats who can't tell their cauldrons from a cooking pan, much less their heads from their arses, Minerva!" Severus snarled at her. Valerie blinked several times, her eyebrows up.

"Severus—"

"For Lily. He had better be a good student, Minerva, or I will never forgive you for doing this to me. Now I will take my leave."

"Severus, do you have someplace to stay?" Valerie called to the retreating form. Her only answer was a snarl.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: What do you think of that? Please review!**_

_**Balrog: (Nowhere to be seen. Crickets chirp in distance.)**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (blinks.)**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, I hope you all like this!**_

_**Balrog: And if we don't?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well… I can't force you to like it… but please review!**_

__

**CT**

* * *

"Concentrate!" Severus snarled at the boy.

"No, Professor. Not until you tell me something. Why do you hate me?" Harry asked, looking resolved. Severus examined the boy. He was about ten, rather tall for his age, and with long auburn hair that he tied back in a tail at the nape of his neck. His expressive blue eyes were as radiant and vibrant as Lily's had been, and his facial shape was all Lily's. The boy reminded him severely of Lily, and he felt an ache in his heart whenever he looked at the boy. He looked so much like Lily, it was horrible. He looked closer, examining the features. The child's cheekbones looked Egyptian, and his intense cerulean eyes had a way of pinning Severus in place. A glass wobbled on the table, a sign of the boy's incredible power.

"I don't hate you," Severus said. The shaking glass got more rickety, and finally imploded. The table tore itself to splinters, sending bits of wood flying.

"You're lying. You hate me. I want to know why."

"You look like your mother. I loved your mother, Potter. Please—"

"Don't call me Potter, Snape. My name is McGonagall. Remember that. I am not Harry Potter."

"Fine! It doesn't matter! Focus on Darkness!" Severus snarled. The boy's face scrunched up, and the wood chips began flying faster, and the figure within the vortex became larger. Soon, the chips fell, and Severus was face-to-face with the strangest, and most frightening, creature he had ever seen. It resembled a black Bakeneko, but was larger and had the boy's eyes. A bump on the cat's forehead seemed to have slightly coarser hair, and Severus leaned down to examine the large cat. It began to purr, and its massive ears pricked up. He leaned against a table, toppling the furniture. The huge cat opened his mouth and yawned, sticking its tongue out. The jaws opened completely, showing a very formidable set of teeth. Fangs were in the top of the mouth, dropping down as the cat yawned then closing again. It was larger than a tiger, coming to about four feet at the shoulder, and gave a grunting growl as it yawned. It was as large as a horse, and looked downright ferocious. Furled wings lay close to the great cat's body, offering no threat. But as Severus looked, the cat unclosed them, and they opened as large as a thestral's. The eyes didn't have a pupil, and the teeth were gleaming with something that Severus was not disillusioned into believing was saliva. Severus backed up. He felt cold around the beast, and its gaunt look reminded him of the thestrals around Hogwarts. Its tongue was as raspy looking as a cat's, but it was much longer. A ruff of fur around its neck was flat, and yet when Severus approached, it fanned out into a shape like a cobra's hood. Severus gulped. Being against such a massive and predatory animal was not what he had in mind when he became a private tutor.

Suddenly, the cat leapt forward. It passed Severus, and pounced on the door, shattering it. Behind it was Valerie, and the great feline began washing her face. She was lying on her back, almost shaking.

"Hey, you, Potter, back away from her!" Severus snarled. The cat looked at him, its ears laying back. It hissed, and its tail lashed. Severus noticed that the cat's tail was single, and he knew that a Bakeneko transformed into a Nekomata when about ten or so. Then the tail split down the center, creating two separate tails, and the creature gained the ability to control fire and reanimate the dead for their own amusement. The tutor swallowed, hard, and backed away. The creature lifted its hood, and hissed again, opening its wings. Now that the hood and wings were open, the creature looked to be about twice as large as it had been before. It paced forwards, growling and stalking Severus.

"Harry!" Valerie cried. The beast snarled in her direction, and continued stalking Severus. _Stupify!_ The former Transfiguration Professor cried at the monster. The beast simply absorbed the red light, lifting off and flapping its wings angrily.

_Impedimenta! Cunjunctivus! Serpensorcia! Reducto! Reducio!_ Severus tried several spells on the beast, but it just absorbed every one, save the snake that the tutor had conjured. The serpent just turned on its castor, slithering beside the beast until Severus banished it.

_Expedio of sentential!_ Valerie cast. The grey beam of light struck the Animagus in the center of its back, and it reared. Suddenly, it came down on all fours, and morphed back into the boy, looking rather ashamed.

"Sorry. I didn't hurt either of you, did I?" Potter asked.

"No, you didn't, Harry. Just gave us a scare," Valerie replied.

"Grandmother, what am I?"

"I… Well, I don't know. We could take some blood samples from you, and see what you are."

"No! Minerva—"

"Severus, my name now is Valerie. I would appreciate if you used it. Harry is not dangerous, he is a boy!"

"His form is a venomous, winged, murderous necromantic Japanese cat!" Severus snarled. A chunk of icy fear lodged in his stomach. Would he have to face the beast again? He certainly hoped not!

* * *

Valerie took Harry out of the room, lost in her memories.

"Oh, Frank," she half-sighed, half-sobbed. She sat heavily down on a chair, Harry sitting on the floor.

"Grandmother, what is it?"

"When I was at school, I met your grandfather. We fell in love, and we had a son."

Valerie delved deep into her memories, remembering.

"_Mina! Mina!" a voice cried. Valerie turned to find Agatha, her sister, running up. "Mina, I—Who's child is that?" Agatha asked, staring at the infant. _

"_Mine. And Al's. Please, raise him, Aggie? Please? I—I can't. Not while I'm still in school," she said, handing the baby over. _

"_Minerva Juno McGonagall. I am _appaled_ at you. Getting _pregnant_ out of wedlock?! And at Hogwarts, no less. Well, I am marrying Jacob, and raising _your_ son as my own, _little sister_. We are no longer related, and if you _ever_ want to see frank again, you had better shape up.´ The older woman stalked off, leaving her desolate younger sister behind. _

"_Aggie!" she called. _

"_You will never call me that again, Minerva. My name is Mrs. Longbottom." _

_Over the years, Frank Longbottom had been raised well by his surrogate parents. Valerie had loved him, as any parent can love tier child. She had been at their wedding, and had cried with happiness as Frank became a panther Animagus and an Unspeakable, then Alice had announced her pregnancy to the order on the same day as Lily had. Both proud mothers had come in after their birthings, and bore their sons with beaming faces._

"Grandmother?" Harry's voice jerked Valerie from her reverie.

"Harry, dear, you have an uncle. His name is Frank…"

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I think I'll leave it there for now. For all of you who want to know, Harry is a Nekomaguar, a cross between a female Jaguar and a male Nekomata, crossed with a Cobrestral, a cross between a male Cobra and a female Thestral. The final breed is a Nekomaguar-cobrestral, but the word will almost never, if ever, appear in the Fanfiction.**_

_**Balrog: Also, **_**Expedio of sentential**_** means "Clarity of Thought" in Latin. I think. Celebwen looked it up on the internet. One would think that she would know more than one language… **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog! Well, people, please review!**_

_**CT**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, here's Chapter 14 of Constant Vigilance. Please review!**_

_**Balrog: And why would I want to do that?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Not you, you big combusted tarpit! I mean the readers!**_

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**Balrog: Big combusted tarpit? I'm confused…**

* * *

The old man stared at the applicant across the desk. He was the only one woho had filled out the application for a DADA teacher, since old Kristler had died last year when he was attacked in the Dark Forest.

"Alright, Quernius. You're hired. Now, I just have you fill out this—_Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo! _I greatly—Quernius?" The young turbaned man had begun to shake. A fine black mist was rising from his turban, and a foul stench was filling the air.

"What on?!" the applicant cried. "My Lord! I—Oh, Merlin bless, I'm free. I'm _free_ of that parasite!" he began to cry out. "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God almighty, free at last!" Quirrel laughed, and leaned over the desk, almost laying on top of it to shake Dumbledore's hand. The older wizard was rather perplexed; no one had ever had a reaction like _that_ to him before. But maybe it was just that he was getting on in years. The rooster in his head seemed to be doing whatever it wanted to at odd times; he had found himself picking bits of corn off of his plate with his lips yesterday evening, and had gotten a rather strong liking for grains and insects.

But how would that irritating bird in his head have caused Quirrel to go mad? The only creature that a rooster had an odd effect on was a Basilisk, and the great snake died at the crowing of a rooster. But what sort of parasite would—Dear Merlin, he didn't almost hire Voldemort, did he?! Tom Riddle had an Unregistered Animagus form, as the castle had informed him, but he wasn't sure what it was. Apparently it had been a Basilisk, and he had almost hired the megalomaniac to teach! Now would Quirrel, recently cleansed of Voldemort possession, be an adequate teacher?

* * *

Horace McGonagall walked down the Muggle street with his grandfather.

"Can you spare a ha'penny?" someone asked. It was a kid, about Harry's age, with filthy, straggly blonde hair, brown eyes that seemed sad, and he looked as though he had been pampered and rather obese before being thrown out on the street.

"Pardon?" Harry asked. His grandmother had taught him well to be kind to others. Even beggars like this. "Here. Come with me, and we'll take you someplace where you can get some food. Grandfather?" Harry called. The older man stopped, and smiled at the young beggar.

"My mum threw me out of the house because of that letter."

"Letter?" Victor asked. His eyes narrowed, and Harry began to get suspicious. "What letter?"

"It was on some weird paper, and had green ink. It said something about a private school and—and—_magic_. I can't do magic, Dad said that it was all rubbish, and not to come back. And now I can't find anything for lunch, and I had my shoes stole, and I had my breakfast stole."

"Come with us. We'll help you out," Harry said. He felt sorry for the boy, obviously a Muggleborn and with rather incompetent parents. He walked beside the homeless boy, until they came to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Isn't that a bad place? Dad told me never to go into somewhere like that, and Mum said that there are scar letted women in places like that."

"Don't worry, son, the Cauldron isn't a brothel," Victor assured the frightened lad, chuckling.

"A what?" the boy asked.

"Calm down, kid. What's your name?" Harry asked.

"My what?" the boy replied. He looked confused, underfed, and overabused.

"Your name. Mine's Horace James Evan McGonagall McPhaerson."

"Dudley Vernon Dursley."

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, I know people have been asking for longer chapters, however this seemed to be the best place to put the ending. It was a bit of a cliffhanger, indeed, and I tend to enjoy writing those. Sorry.**_

_**Balrog: And now Harry has met Dudley. What happened with the Dursleys?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Dudley got a Hogwarts letter, and his parents threw him out of the house.**_

_**CT**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, you wanted longer chapters. Here's a longer one. Please enjoy. **_

_**Balrog: The readers may have, but did I? **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog! **_

Victor scowled. His wife had told him about the Dursleys, and this was apparently their son. This wasn't good.

"Alright, boy," the paranoid ex-auror said. He pushed the boy in front of him, and they walked into the pub. "Yer commin' with us. Horace, open the gate." Harry touched the brick with his finger, having mastered wandless magic at a very young age.

"Come on in, it's great," Harry called to the shy child. Victor pushed Harry's birth cousin into the alleyway, and suddenly the gate closed behind them. There was a puff of smoke, and an old man with a long beard, forked down the middle, and a dangerous glint in his dark eyes approached. Victor felt the approach of evil Water magic, and suddenly something snapped. The paranoid auror felt his grandson trying to pull up his Dark magic, and suddenly, in Harry's place, was a huge creature. Its mantle was a bit less than half a kilometer wide and it was a sickly brownish-yellow in color. A terrible odor seeped off the beast, and hundreds of flailing tentacles reached for the intruder, and found it, squeezing him, and other tentacles going after the still-upright buildings. Then, the thing vanished, and in its place was an absolutely livid black horse. The Kelpie stallion reared, and the stranger dodged the flying hooves.

"What's going on?!" Dudley cried, hiding behind Victor.

"Harry's trying to turn into his Earth Elemental Animal, and the Water element is affecting it." The stranger transformed into a giant creature, a water dragon, if Victor had his magical creatures right. Then, he felt his grandson abandoning the Earth and going after Fire. The Kelpie undulated for a moment, and then, in its place, was a large five-taloned creature. Its serpentine body and large, fleshy mane confirmed it as an Eastern Dragon, even without the iridescent blue-green scales and the long feelers. The talons were sharp and deadly, and the Imperial Eastern Dragon opened its leonine mouth and growled. The water monster hissed back, striking with deadly swiftness, but the Eastern Dragon was able to writhe aside quickly, slamming his tail against his foe's back. The wizards and witches backed away, and suddenly the Eastern dragon put flight to the rumors that only Western dragons had combustible breath. A fiery lance slammed into the monster's side with a stench of melting blubber and frying seaweed. The water dragon screamed in pain as the Eastern Dragon gripped it in his claws.

Victor forced his Earth element into Harry, trying to make his grandson stronger, and a strange scream came from the Eastern Dragon. It morphed into a strange monster, part Occamy and part Tyrannosaurus Rex. The sinuous, winged dinosaur latched onto the stranger's throat, spilling blood. Then, the water dragon became a human again, before Apparating away. That was when the strange Occamy-T-Rex hybrid changed into a strange black stallion. Its mane and tail were made of pure fire, and the eyes looked as though they were pure lava. The black skin crackled when the Hellhorse moved, showing magma beneath it. A pair of long canine teeth dropped below the jaw, and its look was that of a wingless Thestral gone terribly wrong. Dudley stumbled back, and the patrons of Diagon Alley who were still around after the strange animalistic duel between Harry and the bearded stranger yelled, running away.

"Harry, change back," Victor demanded. The creature writhed and undulated, obviously changing. It became Harry, who lay down on the pavement, exhausted.

"Who the Hell was _that_, Grandfather?!" Harry demanded. "I've never changed into a dragon before, much less…whatever that thing was. What exactly was it? I felt… Hungry. As though the water dragon was food. Dragon's aren't cannibalistic, I don't think."

"You… you were scary…" Dudley put in. Harry glared.

"I gathered that, Dudley."

"You were… I think a cross between an Occamy and a Tyrannosaurus Rex," Victor put in.

"Merlin!" A booming voice cut the group off. "Wha' a beau'y! Wha' was tha'?" The voice belonged to a large man with a tangled mat of black hair and a thick black beard. His tiny black eyes were glittering with what Victor assumed was excitement. Rubeus Hagrid. The most infamous student when he was at school. Victor couldn't count the number of times that Hagrid had smuggled in something large and dangerous, such as that… whatever it was that had killed that Ravenclaw.

"Hagrid. Please return to your hut, and leave me and my family alone," Victor growled.

"An' 'oo are you?" Hagrid returned. Victor growled, and momentarily removed the advanced glamour. "Alastor! Wha' are ye doin' 'ere in Diagon Alley?"

"Getting supplies. Now please go."

"A'righ', a'righ'. Don' get 'cited." The half-giant then ambled off, to do who knew what.

"Alright, Grandfather. Let's go." Harry walked down the alley, headed straight for Ollivander's.

"Ah, Harry Potter. I knew you would be here," Ollivander said softly. His piercing silver eyes fixed on Harry's.

"My name is Horace McGonagall, sir," Harry replied.

"Yes, yes, yes. Let's not waste our time on pleasantries. Here, try letting us match you up with a wand." The old wandmaker handed his patron a wand. "Yew and Dragon Heartstring. Rather… erm… no." The aforementioned wand had just obliterated a shelf, sending wooden shrapnel everywhere. "Here, then. Holly and Unicorn Hair, twel—no." The wand blew up the desk, causing Dudley to chuckle softly. "Alright, let's see here… olive and phoenix feather. Fifteen inches, rather swishy—Not at all!" Ollivander snatched the wand from Harry's hand after it started to smoke ominously. Harry wandered into the back of the shop, and randomly picked up a wand for himself. It glowed, vibrating horribly. "That one could work, but I'm certain that there are others…"

"Erm… Mr. Ollivander, I happen to have something that could work." Harry transformed into his Phoenix self, and let a single tail feather float down, to Dudley's awe. The blonde boy picked up a wand, and trashed the remaining half of Ollivander's shop by accident, then yelped and tossed the wand away. Ollivander didn't notice, already going over to his wandmaking shop area, and matching Harry's feather to several woods. The best one apparently was Holly, and soon Harry was the proud owner of a Holly and Phoenix Feather wand, twelve and ¼ inches, rather swishy, good for Transfiguration, and Dudley had an Ebony and Dragon Heartstring wand, 11 inches, and rather bendy, good for curses, leaving Ollivander's shop behind them in shambles, and Victor trying not to laugh.

"Where to next?" the blonde boy asked.

"Madame Malkins," Victor growled. While the boys were getting their robes sized for themselves, Victor walked into Eyelops Owl Emporium, looking over the owls, one for each boy. A perk of being rich was that every member of the household could have a personal owl. A dark colored owl, probably a Screech owl, stared at him insolently, and then gave a high-pitched squeal of indignation as he got too close. A young dark-haired woman glared at the owl, then found a beautiful barn owl and paid for it. Behind where the woman had been was a strange looking mop of a bird. Its brown plumage was striped with black lines, and its horns were ragged and long, looking completely outgrown. Its black eyes regarded him carefully, and the strange almost Barn Owl looking facial border was a distinct change between the carefully groomed facial feathers and the ragged, mop-like look of the rest of the bird. The strange looking owl gagged mournfully, hacking up a pellet and throwing it on the ground, and gave a low, breathy hoot. Then, the awkward bird took flight, landing clumsily on Victor's head. A ways away, a graceful Snowy Owl hooted at him, looking curiously. He picked up the female Snowy and headed to the counter. Then, without warning, the odd owl, identified by the worker as "Búho de Diablo", named in Spanish because it was a Mexican Striped Owl, shrieked. The worker backed away quickly, yelling, and soon Victor was outside, the two owls and other supplies with him. Just what he needed, a mercenary owl.

Dudley came up to him, staring at the murderous bird. It took off, landed on Dudley's head, and then gave a huff, as if saying "Well, I can't find anyone better here! He'll have to do!" and wouldn't get off.

"Wicked!" the boy cried. "I'll call him… Tiger!" Tiger hooted in what seemed to be enthusiasm, and the white owl flew gracefully over to Harry, claiming him instantly and receiving the name "Hedwig" in return.

"Good. Now that we've got everything… Boys, come here," Victor growled. He approached, holding both of their shoulders, and with a fierce spin, sent them reeling back to Australia, everything with them.

_**Celebwen Telcontar: That was interesting. **_

_**Balrog: That Hellhorse seems a bit familiar… When I was an infant, my first cousin fifty times removed gave me a Hellhorse to stay with. It was sweet… **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: And probably smelled of sulfur. Well folks, please review!**_

_**CT**_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, here's another one! Another long one, too!**_

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**CT**

* * *

Valerie looked up as her husband and grandson Apparated into her house. A new boy was with them, blonde and looking too thin, as were two owls. The Mexican Striped Owl landed on one of her chairs with a breathy hoot, and the blonde boy went to pick him up. Harry on the other hand held a beautiful Snowy owl, who looked beyond intelligent, and was the opposite of her bearer in that Harry looked ready to drop over any second.

"Evening, Val," Victor said, putting a load of supplies down.

"Who's this, Victor? A new friend of Harry's?"

"No, a Muggleborn. His parents kicked him out when he got his letter. Val, he's Dudley Dursley."

"He's… I knew it. I just _knew_ that those good-for-nothing _things_ wouldn't help our Harry!" Valerie hissed. By now, Dudley looked extremely confused.

"Ma'am?" he began. "Is there something I can help you with? The cleaning, perhaps, so I can keep my way?"

"Oh, dear, no need for that. Come on, let's have supper. Owls go in the mews, by the way." The two boys took their birds outside, Harry leading. "Victor, how did you come by him?"

"We were going to Diagon Alley, and I found him begging on the street. You know Harry, he'll do anything for anyone hurt, and he practically adopted the boy there on the street. When I heard his name, well, there was nothing else to do. I know who he is, Valerie."

"Alright, I'll accept that. That's also how we ended up with that blasted Welsh Scarlet living in our catacombs for a few years!" Valerie vented. A low rumble from underground gave flight to the thought that the Welsh Scarlet was gone. It was back. "Darrie!" Valerie called. The family House-Elf appeared, hair covering her pillowcase, and smelling strongly of cattle.

"Mistress is calling for Derrie?" the House-Elf asked.

"What were you doing just now?" Valerie asked, baffled by the condition of their House-Elf.

"Derrie was just feeding Scarlie. Scarlie is in again, and Scarlie has a hurted wing."

"Oh, no. A dragon with an injured wing," Valerie lamented. This wasn't anything she wanted to do full-time. She would certainly leave the pre-Care of Magical Creatures lessons to the oversized Hogwarts gameskeeper if ever she could. A rattling roar caused Harry to come pelting in, his weariness obviously no concern to the boy, and he raced down the stairs to the catacombs.

"Good gods," Victor moaned. He didn't want the dragon any more than his wife did, but it was a member of the family now, apparently, and trying to evict the monster would only upset Harry and get whoever tried to remove the demonic flying beast killed. Dudley stepped in, white.

"Sir, Ma'am? What—What was that?" the boy asked, shakily, as if he was afraid he'd get clobbered by the simple question.

"Harry's pet dragon," Victor said. Valerie saw the boy's eyes go wide, and then the pupils constrict and the irises roll back up into his head. The lad was then laid, flat out and passed out, on the floor.

* * *

Harry stared at the large Welsh Scarlet that dominated the catacombs with a gleeful smile. His dragon had grown from a tiny dragonet into the massive creature before him now.

_:Hi!:_ Harry called to his friend.

_:Hello. How are you today, little friend?:_ the dragon replied. It had taken some effort to figure out that Harry was a Parselmouth, and that wyrms, being inherently close to serpents in structure and mythology, could understand and speak Parseltongue.

_:I am well. How is your wing, Maggie?:_ the dragoness lowered her head.

_:Not good. It got hurt when I tried to fly too long. Can you fix it?:_ Maggie's absolute faith in Harry being able to fix anything could be rather overwhelming sometimes, but other times it wasn't.

_:I'm sure I can, Maggie. I'll be right back with the proper salve. Does it hurt in the bones or the muscles?:_

_:The muscles. It's just a sprain, I think.:_

_:Still, a sprain is torn tendons and we need to reattach them. Stay right there.:_

_:You know I can't go anywhere, little friend!: _the dragon replied in a fond hiss. Harry got a bucket of greenish salve, and soon was rubbing it into the injured area. Her red skin augmented her capillaries in the membrane, and he could feel her pulse through the thin skin of her wings. She nuzzled him softly, almost as if she possessed him as her kit.

_:Would you like me to spend the night down here, tonight?:_ Harry asked Maggie. Her golden eyes got softer, and she nuzzled him. Harry took that as a yes, and ran up to tell his grandparents that he was sleeping with Maggie tonight.

"Absolutely not!" Victor shouted. "You are not sleeping in the catacombs with a dragon!"

"She's lonely, Grandfather!" Harry cried back. "And she's hurt. I need to be there in case she accidentally rolls over and reinjures her wing. I need to be there, Grandfather. There's no negotiations!"

"It's a dangerous animal!"

"She's my friend! She understands Parseltongue, Grandfather, and speaks it! She's as intelegent as you or grandmother!"

"It's drafty down there, Harry!" Victor put in.

"And Maggie is large and warm, keeping away the drafts and the cold!" Harry went upstairs to the linen closet, and took out a thick King sized blanket, a pillow and a change of clothes. He came down, ignoring his grandmother's pleas, and made up a pallet to sleep by his friend.

* * *

"Victor, why was Harry so tired when he returned?" Valerie asked her husband. He ran a hand through his brown hair.

"We ran into Kelly today. He insisted on a duel between Harry and himself, a magical one. He fought as a water dragon, and Harry tried a few things. Each one the Water element that Kelly used affected his use of his own elements. In the end, I supplied him some power, fighting Earth and Fire mixed with a foreign Water element. Harry turned into a cross between a Tyrannosaurus and an Occamy."

"A… Good Merlin, what did Kelly do?"

"He fled."

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: That seems the most logical place to end this. **_

_**Balrog: what's with the dragoness?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: She was raised by Harry when she was abandoned by her birth mother. Her name is Magma, Maggie for short. **_


	17. Chapter 17

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I hope that this is a good chapter! I am making this fic having the antagonists be Voldie and a new enemy working together. Kudos to the person who figures out the new enemies identity! Clue: Look in your history books!**_

_**Balrog: Dear Morgoth Below! You're actually having **_**him**_** in this fic?! I thought he was dead! I wish he was dead! Murderous scum! **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I didn't know you were learned in history!**_

_**Balrog: No, but I read! **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: You read. And this is supposed to explain your explosion? **_

_**Balrog: Memoirs.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Ah, I see. Well, people, ignore my literate Balrog friend, and please review!**_

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**CT**

* * *

The old man drummed his fingers on the side of the plush leather chair, fingering the small brooch in one hand. He had had it made years ago, and the maker had been very daring to make such a symbol. He knew that there was another person out there, one who had the same symbol as a birthmark, or maybe a scar or other visible bodily oddity. He vowed to himself to bring that person to his side, and raise the black flag of his people once again. His troops may be gone, but be _damned_ if he would lie down like a fish! And now he was in hiding, and said to be long dead. That body double who committed suicide in the custody of those blasted Brits was his best investment to date.

He was a Squib, and his siblings had attended Durmstrung. He would not give up without leading his people to a new era! The black and red flag would fly again, he was sure of it! As would the black and silver! Harry Potter would be his, raised to respect the black and the silver. He would make the president proud, if the president hadn't died.

With a small smile, he stood up, calling for his House-Elf.

"Yes, how can Heinz help Master?" the small creature asked.

"Ready my auto and my summer home, elf," he demanded.

"Of course, Heinz always does what is asked! Always!" The creature vanished, and the man pinned the brooch blatantly on his lapel. It felt good to wear the old symbols again. His armband was in the drawer, as well as his black clothes, gathering dust, but they would soon be worn again, and a new set had to be commissioned for young Potter. He would have to kidnap the boy, but it would be worth it! He was certain! Now he just needed a method…

"Master," a voice crackled through the intercom. He pushed the button on his red suede chair's arm.

"Go ahead," he growled.

"You asked us to inform you of any change in the visitors to the sites. A snake has entered into the largest site, and is acting rather strangely, as if trying to reach the shower heads."

"You disturbed my peace about a snake?" he asked, his voice a deadly growl.

"Yes, Sir. It was examining the showers."

"Kill it."

"Yes, Sir." The intercom crackled back into silence.

"Action that—like you not," a voice said in a thick British accent. The man in black scowled. He was not fond of British.

"Who are you?" he barked. A person stepped out of the shadows. He was one of his valets, a man who would be deeply loyal to the president and who was even more loyal to him. He wore black on as many occasions as possible. Now, though, his hair was gone, and as he turned around, a face was in front of him.

The face was terrible, it looked remarkably like a snake, with red slit-pupil eyes and no nose to speak of.

"Join me—"

"Shut the Fuck up, now, if you value your life," the man in black snarled. The snake-faced man laughed.

"A man after my own heart!" the snake chuckled. "You will learn obedience." The servant turned, and spat a word in Latin, that sounded like "Torture". The man in black dodged a strange colored light flying towards him.

"A curse, is it? What is it that you want?"

"Harry Potter. I know you have the resources to get him."

"You wish to overtake young Potter? And what will I get out of this?" the former leader asked.

"A piece of the spoils, and Potter."

"And Potter, is it?" he asked. He looked at the snake. He was pale, and though he didn't trust him, he supposed that an alliance was beneficial to him. After all, the president had made an alliance. "Very well, I will ally with you. May I know to whom I am speaking?"

"Lord Voldemort. But you will call me Master." The man in black snorted. He bowed to no one, others bowed to him! But he would give this idiot his grandeur for a bit, and then kill him. Then he would take Harry Potter for himself, and the world would be reborn again! His vision was for a world safe for Wizards, Witches and Squibs, a world where Muggles were perfect and beautiful creatures blonde of hair and blue of eye. Muggles were, after all, put there only for pleasure! He leaned back in his chair. This would be amusing to watch!

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: How do you like that?**_

_**Balrog: (Crawls out from behind curtain) Is he gone? And the president… is he going to be here? (Shudders)**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: No. Calm down. Everything's fine. Alright, people! Please review!**_

_**CT**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Congratulations to Airlady for coming close to who the new character is! As for the story, well, read and please review.**_

_**Balrog: Review? Why would I do that? Alright, all of you who think this story should go into the dumps yell out! **_

_**Audience: (Crickets call and the microphone screeches) **_

_**Balrog: Really now? Alright, alright! I'm going!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Looks smug) Please review people!**_

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**CT**

* * *

Music poured out of the room, wild and unbridled Wagner, part of the Ring Cycle. The player was almost stroking the keys in a loving way, his eyes closed to immerse himself in the music.

"Very good, my friend," the high-pitched voice complimented, clapping his puppet's hands. The harpsichordist stopped playing, fouling a note as he was startled. He turned, glaring through thin, wire-rimmed glasses at the observer.

"I did not ask for your appreciation," he said conversationally, the hint of a threat below the words. The magical self-proclaimed "Lord" began to laugh. The old commander simply raised an eyebrow. _I will not get angry at this Semite piece of magical trash,_ the man repeated mentally in a mantra. _I will not throw him in the camps, and I need his help to get Potter. I am not the President of the Nazi Regime, but the last of the __Schutzstaffel__, and if I fall, then I will have no successors. I need this serpent's help to get Potter,_ he mentally scolded himself. He stood up, the creature watching his every move, rage at his insolence burning in the creature's eyes. The harpsichordist went over to his wardrobe, removing a black uniform. On the collar was a silver wreath, like the one an ancient Greek would wear of laurels. Within it was a silver oak leaf, the insignia that marked him as _Reichsführer__, _or Imperial Leader. He smiled as he stroked the fabric, remembering well his time in the SS.

"What is that?" the monster asked. The SS officer looked up slightly.

"It is my uniform."

"From what?" The _Reichsführer_ could tell that his guest was getting annoyed.

"_Die Waffen __Schutzstaffel__, Sie sacken vom Schwein ein,"_ the host said. The guest's scarlet eyes narrowed, and a length of wood was presented.

"I may not know German, however I know an insult when I hear one. You'd best watch your mouth, Squib." The wand twitched, and the creature whispered "Torture!" in Latin. An orange bolt of light streamed towards him. The SS officer dodged to the side, watching dispassionately as the old oak table caught fire from the curse. He had a taste in fine art, and he was _not_ pleased that his table was ruined. However, he couldn't lose his temper to this young upstart.

* * *

Horace awoke slowly, Maggie forcing her head into the crook of his arm.

_:Good morning, sleepyhead. My wing feels a lot better, thanks to you:_ she said softly.

_:Mmmmmm?: _Harry began, lifting his head sleepily _:Mgmmum:_ he muttered, aware of how unintelegent he sounded. Maggie laughed, a low, grating sound, her nostrils glowing scarlet around the edges like coals. Heat worked its way from her face, another byproduct of her mirth.

_:Not so articulate when waking up, are you, little one?:_ she whispered. Her tail trailed from his hair to his back, causing Harry to arch into the touch. Maggie laughed.

A scratching on the walls startled Harry and Maggie, who lit the torch. Nothing was visible, and so Harry focused on becoming small, stealthy, and deadly. He shrank, his limbs being absorbed into his body until they were gone. His tailbone extended into a proper tail, and he reared up on his lower body, hissing. The scratching stopped, and Harry could sense heat now somehow between his eyes and nose. He moved forward, stealthily, feeling the heat increase. Then, when he was only a few centimeters from the heat source, he struck. His mouth opened, and he felt fangs drop, then he bit into soft flesh and tissue. Someone yelped, loudly, and Maggie gave a burst of fire in the area that Harry and his victim were in.

"Eine Giftschlange! Eine Giftschlange biss mich!!" the man yelped, jumping around, trying to squash Harry's head. "Kommen Sie Sie der Laich des schlechten Teufels los!" Obviously, the man was foreign. Harry reared up, and the man scuttled back as best as he could, then fell back and pulled up his pant leg to see the bite. It was red and beginning to swell, and the man was profusely sweating and breathing hard.

_:You're a viper of some sort:_ Maggie said dispassionately. The man's black clothing and double lightning bolt symbol on his breast, augmented by the simple oak leaf in silver on his lapel, marked him as some Muggle radicalist faction in the recent past. Harry focused on trying to use Earth and Dark, to blend into the catacombs and keep from being squashed. The man looked oddly at him. He began to mutter in the same odd language, and when Harry saw his whitish, seed-eating bill, he realized that he was a bird. He concentrated on leaving the Earth portion, and focusing on Mystery, and suddenly he felt larger. His tail was long and whiplike, and he could see very well in the darkness. He had a low growl that he used, scaring the man. A blatting sound was heard, accompanied by a foul stench, and Harry realized that the man had soiled himself. _:Well, that's not unexpected. He obviously can't see me or he thinks that I am a hallucination. However, you being a panther now, it must give him a bit more fear, especially since he's been bitten by your viper self.:_

_:I see. So you're basically saying that I scared him into soiling himself, because I'm a panther?:_

_:Basically. Do you want to take him up? I think he was sent here to kidnap you. Let me tell you now that as a panther, you can hiss, however it seems to be a different dialect than the snake dialect.: _

_:What does that have to do with anything?! We can understand each other fine! As for the previous problem, we happen to have a German, by the sound of the language, who is trying to kidnap me, and you ask if we should bring him to Grandmother and Grandfather? I take it that you have taken a bad head wound with that wing injury. Let me see to your head.:_

_:No. I'm just offering some different solutions, young one, not being soft and silly!:_

_:Of course you're not being soft and silly, that's only for little Human females who are chained to stakes outside of your lair so that you can feast on their pampered virgin flesh!: _Harry joked back. Maggie growled, flames licking the outside of her nostrils. The former attempted kidnapper whimpered.

_:Let's just leave him here. Let him rot. This is a catacomb, after all, isn't it? Besides, I could use a good meal, young one!:_

_:Maggie, this might be a catacomb, however it is for an old Pureblood family, and a radical German would not fit here! Besides, didn't you already eat last night?:_

_:I'm hungry again, alright? Please?:_

_:Maggie, no. Let's go up, I can't stay here any longer, and besides if I don't go up soon, Grandmother and Grandfather will come looking for me. Today is August 30__th__, and tomorrow we need to be headed to the Leaky Cauldron. I need to go up to pack. Throw him off of a cliff or something, but I don't want you infected by his overzealousness.:_ Harry reached up, placing his forepaws on his friend's cheek horns, and gave her a gentle lick on the nose. She nuzzled him in return, and Harry padded on up to the house to get ready for his school year.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: How was that? Did you like it?**_

_**Balrog: Did I like it? The SS person had me terrified!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Oh, poor abused Balrog! (Laughs)**_

_**Balrog: (Scowls)**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, this should be interesting! We learn what kind of pit viper Harry is and what happens with our new antagonist! By the way, Airlady got it right, he is Heinrich Himmler. **_

_**Balrog: And why would we be concerned about this?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Because you should be!**_

_**Balrog: Really?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Yes, really, you overgrown fireside coal! Please review people!**_

_**CT**_

* * *

Harry trotted up the stairs, passing his instructor on the way. The man snarled in his direction.

"Why are you a panther, boy?" Snape asked. Harry turned and looked in his direction before morphing back into a human.

"We were attacked last night, Professor Snape," Harry explained.

"That explains the screams last night. Where is he?"

"Down in the catacombs. He's still alive, but suffering from a pit viper bite."

"How did a pit viper get into the catacombs?" Snape asked, looking like he was trying to control his temper. The boy transformed into the pit viper he was the night previous. "You are an _Agkistrodon piscivorus, _the Water Moccasin or Cottonmouth. That snake breed is very venomous, lad. Very good. I'm glad that you managed to succeed in this transformation. How long ago did you bite the attacker?"

"About twenty minutes ago. I also managed to master the Earth/Dark transformation." Harry focused on becoming the bird he had been, and felt smaller. The pale bill reached past his face, and Harry looked around on his long neck. Snape picked him up.

"I believe that you are a woodpecker of some sort. The golden eyes, whitish bill and black-edged red crest… You're an Ivory-Bill, lad, an extinct North American bird. That's not bad, boy. Not bad at all." Snape set Harry down, then continued down to the catacombs, scowling. His wand was drawn, and his robes snapped with an electric menace.

Harry turned back into his human self, and continued up to the rest of the house.

"Grandmother?" he asked, spotting her.

"Ah, Harry, there you are. Are you almost packed for the school year?"

"Derry packed for me two days ago. I couldn't pack at all, Derry shooed me away!"

"Do you have your pipes?"

"Yes, I do. Are you going back to Hogwarts this year?"

"I don't think so. Neither is Severus. We're fine here in Melbourne."

"Good." Harry smiled and nodded to his grandmother.

* * *

Professor Sinestra walked into Orion Orpheus' quarters, intent on asking a Potions question. The man was a Potions genius, and had replaced Severus as Potions Master when he left for a private tutoring position. When she opened his office door, a horrid stench assaulted her. Bile was strewn through the rooms, originating with the corpse of Professor Orpheus. By the scent, she guessed that his bowels had also relaxed. His familiar, an iguana named Sylvester, had also been killed, its skin darker than normal.

Professor Sinestra held her nose and ran out. She dashed through the halls, ignoring odd looks from odder statuary. She skidded to a halt by the stone gargoyle, yammering out sweets, Muggle and Magical alike. Finally, the statue sprang aside, yealding to "_Move_, ye airheaded lump o' stone!", the password obviously being "Airhead". Sinestra raced up the revolving stairway, slamming her fists into Dumbledore's door.

"Come in," the venerable Headmaster called.

"Albus, Orion is dead."

* * *

Heinrich sat back in the rough chair, looking back at the old man across from him. All this work, simply so that he could get closer to Potter.

"Thank you for your interview," Dumbledore said. His blue eyes were relieved, and he smiled. The lack of a Potions Professor was a taxing thing, and even though Heinrich had instructed that the previous Potions Master be killed, he was still slightly nervous about taking his place. He hadn't been nervous in years! Voldemort was back in Germany, waiting for Heinrich's reports. And now, it was time to see how well he could fool the Wizarding World.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, how was that?**_

_**Balrog: Uh-oh… Heinrich Himmler as a Potions Master? I doubt that he could do anything in there!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: He's a Squib, he can see Hogwarts, and he has been taught Potions by his parents. Please review, people!**_

_**CT**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Here's one that's a bit longer for all of you! **_

_**Balrog: Longer? Goodie. Now I have to stay here longer. You know that my bath is getting colder and is starting to crust over!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, I'm not the one with a bath in Kilauea! **_

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**CT**

* * *

Horace and Dudley wheeled their trolleys towards the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. Both were rather young, about eleven or thereabouts. The Horace nodded at a flock of people, about seven all told, all with red hair and rather shabby robes. The eldest looking one was holding a cage with an owl in it.

"Perfect Prefect Percy!" one of the two clones said loudly. The other mentioned something about a toilet seat, which caused Horace to look strangely at the group.

"Are you like, a crazy person?" Dudley asked the clone who spoke about the toilet seat.

"I'm sure many people would believe so," the clone responded.

"Oy, Gred, stop tormenting the ikle Firstie!" the other one called. Then the one who spoke up began to badger the two of them. "You're First Years, are you? Well there are some things you need to know about Hogwarts."

"First," the one called "Gred" began, "You have to know the Sorting process. It includes a long and involved battle of wits with a fully-grown mountain troll, and then an intellectual discussion with one of its cave-dwelling relatives."

"Then you have to get a giant to make friends with you, and speak to you on behalf of his leader."

"Then, and only then, can you fight the mountain troll in a battle to the death."

"If you win, and only _if_ you win, you get chosen for your House by the Professors."

"Fred, George! Behave yourselves!" the matronly woman with them scolded. Horace's eyebrows were now in his hair, having risen sometime after the intellectual discussion with a cave troll was discussed. Dudley looked rather frightened. "I'm sorry, dears. Do you need to know how to get onto the platform?"

"No, thank you, madam. I appreciate your willingness to aid us," Harry said, almost doing his impression of a rather old-fashioned courtly bow. The mother of the children looked rather impressed. Dudley ran at and through the barrier.

"Go on, then, Percy, you first." The oldest boy walked primly towards the barrier, his back ramrod straight and his nose probably touching the stratosphere. He vanished behind the barrier, and Harry waited for the others. "Now you, Fred."

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," the boy replied, sounding thoroughly miffed.

"I'm sorry, George. You go next."

"Just kidding, Mum, I really am Fred," Fred replied, going through the barrier, followed half a second later by George. The woman grumbled beneath her breath, and Harry stifled a laugh. Then, the youngest boy, Ron, ran at the barrier and disappeared, followed by the girl and the woman, and finally by him.

"Harry, where were you?" Dudley asked.

"Being civil and letting them go first," Harry explained. A boy with brown hair and Muggle clothes ran through the gateway, looking around, obviously a Muggleborn. With a yell, he crashed his runaway cart into Harry's, sending it flying. The boy squawked, trying to pull himself off of the ground.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Can you forgive me? I'm sorry!" the boy stammered. Harry set him upright, brushing off the dust that got on the boy's clothes.

"I'm fine. Don't worry. You can come with us. My name's Harry, and this is my cousin Dudley. What's your name?"

"Anthony. Anthony Goldstein. I've read so much about Hogwarts, but this isn't what I expected, but it's just so interesting, don't you think?" The boy's eyes gleamed, and his stance practically screamed "Ravenclaw!" to Harry. The boy was obviously a bookworm.

"It is. Come on, let's get a compartment!" The three of them walked towards the train. It whistled loudly, and Tiger screamed, beating the cage with his wings.

"Easy, Tiger! It's alright!" Dudley called to his frantic owl. One of the twins came galloping over, and helped Anthony with his trunk, then Dudley and finally Harry.

"Hello. Who are you three?" he asked.

"I'm Harry, this is Anthony and Dudley. And you are?"

"Gred Weasley. Good to meet you! Are you from Wizarding families?"

"I am. My full name is Horace James Evan McGonagall McPhaerson, the Heir of the McGonagall Line."

"How are you the Heir to the McGonagall's if your last name is McPhaerson?" the clone asked.

"Because my grandmother, Minerva McGonagall, is the Lady of the McPhaerson's. My parents are dead, and so I'm the next in line. You're from the Weasley clan, I know, but how far up are your parents in their hierarchy?"

"You know… I really don't know. I think the Prewetts, my mother's family, asked for asylum from the Weasleys a few decades ago, but I don't know for certain. Good question, Harry. Maybe Bill would know…" Gred said softly. "Well, more ikle Firsties to torture!" The red-haired obvious troublemaker did a cartwheel out the door, leaving the three of them there. A few minutes later, the train started moving. The momentum toppled Dudley onto a seat, and Anthony fell on top of him and then struggled to the opposite seat, blushing.

The door opened, admitting the youngest red-head from the platform.

"Hi. Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

"Certainly," Anthony said. The boy brought in his trunk, holding a rat in his hand. The sight of the creature caused Tiger to go mad, screeching and beating at the cage, clawing at it with his feet.

"Tiger! Calm down! You already had breakfast!" Dudley cried to his owl. The creature didn't listen, still beating the cage like mad, and Dudley finally threw his robes over the cage, finally silencing the mad bird. The fourth boy looked startled at the Tiger's reaction, eyes wide. "Sorry bout that. I'm Dudley; this is my cousin Harry and our friend Anthony. Come on in."

"Er… Yah. I'm Ron, Ron Weasley, and this is Scabbers." Ron sat on a seat as far from Tiger's cage as possible. Hedwig looked reproachfully at the covered owl cage, then glared at Ron, or possibly at the rat sleeping in his hand.

"Don't look at him that way, Hedwig," Harry said to her. "You've had breakfast." The white owl hooted at Harry, hissed at Ron, then turned her back on them and fell asleep. "Sorry about that. She's usually very good-tempered." Harry was confused as to his owl's reactions to his new friend. When Ron looked at her, she was fine with him, however when she looked at Scabbers, she hissed and seemed violent. She obviously didn't like the rat.

"I don't know what's wrong with Scabbers, but he's been in my family ten years."

"Ten years?" Harry asked.

"Rats usually live about two to three years, don't they?" Anthony asked.

"Then he's probably some magical sort of rat, isn't he?" Ron replied with a question. Harry shrugged, and Hedwig screeched at the ancient rodent. Harry smacked the rat with his wand. _Specialis revilio!_, he cried, making the rat squeak and run into an unused part of the compartment, then running out with a rather large common toad chasing after him, croaking impatiently.

"Where'd that come from?" Dudley asked. The door opened, and a round faced boy peeked in.

"Trevor! There you are! I've been looking for you!" The boy snatched the toad up, and held him close. The boy's foot came close to Scabber's tail, and the rat squeaked then ran up to the benches, only to be screeched at by Hedwig. The boy, after introducing himself as Neville Longbottom, came into the apartment to keep from being run over by the sweet trolley. Harry bought a goodly amount of sweets for everyone there, and everyone began to eat and speak at the same time, speculating on what Hogwarts was going to be like.

Suddenly, the compartment door slid open.

"Hullo. What have we here?" a cold voice asked. Harry and his friends looked up to see a boy with a pointed face and white blonde hair. "Word's going up and down the train that the McGonagall Heir is here. So it's you then, is it?"

"Yes, that's me."

"I see. Well, I've some advice for you. You don't want to be going around with the wrong sort, they can't help you lead your family. I'm Draco Malfoy, the Heir to the Malfoy name, and I can help you there."

"I think I can figure out the right sort myself, thank you," Harry replied just as coldly, ignoring the boy's outstretched hand.

"You'll pay for that, McGonagall. You insulted my mother, and we don't stand for insult," Malfoy hissed. A pair of overlarge thugs came into the room. "We've already had our sweets, but we're still hungry, aren't we lads?" The leftmost thug reached for a Caldron Cake, and was thwarted by Scabbers, who latched onto his knuckle.

"Ah! It's a rat! It's rabid! It's a rat! Get it off, get it off!" he shrieked, shaking the strong-jawed rodent around until momentum forced the rat to let go. The rodent smacked the robes around Tiger's cage, and the savage owl tried to bite the rat. The three bullies left, Malfoy sneering. Ron picked up his rat, and checked him over for injuries.

"I don't believe it, he's asleep! Hey, my brothers told me a spell to change his fur color!" Ron announced, raising his wand. The compartment door slid open again, and a bushy-haired girl poked her head in.

"Have any of you seen—Oh, you have him. Good. Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then!" The girl came in, and Ron blushed.

"Sunshine, Daisies, Butter-mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!" Ron declaired, smacking the rat with his wand. The rat squeaked and his whiskers caught fire slightly, and then went out on their own. The rat glared up at Ron, then looked at Harry with an odd expression in his beetle black eyes. Hedwig shrieked.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl asked. "I've tried loads of magic, and its all worked for me. Anyways, I was just up at the conductor's station, and we're almost there. You'd better put on your robes or you'll be late. It looks like yours don't fit," she said, indicating Ron, who blushed. Anthony shivered.

"Something's wrong. I don't feel all that well…" the boy said softly.

"I'm sure it's just having too many sweets," Dudley said. "I used to have sweets all the time, and would get stomach aches every day, until my Mum found out that I was a Wizard. She kicked me out of the house then."

"Sorry," Anthony grumbled. His complexion was slightly paler than it should have been. "It's probably the sweets." The train soon began to slow down, and the girl, after introducing herself as Hermione Granger, left to get her own stuff and get into her robes.

* * *

Professor Joshua Schmidt walked gingerly through the hallways. Something was wrong here, something that should be fixed. His back was one big chill lately, ever since the new Potions Master was hired. He had sent off a few letters to his grandmother, who had replied with some cryptic yammerings about storms and "The President rising again", whatever that meant. Sometimes it was a pain to have a Seer in the family, especially one who had been through the Muggle holocaust. Half the time, his grandmother, Raquel Fritz, would talk about unknown things, her prophecies only revealing themselves after the prophecy was finished.

He hoped that he wasn't getting inklings of his grandmother's Gift. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep since she developed her Gift, often yelling in the middle of the night and waking everyone up. She had been born in 1901. When she had been thirty five, she had been found with her family, all Jewish, in 1936. On her birthday, April 29, of 1945, when she was turning 44, she was released by the Americans. Her husband was dead, she was rail thin, and her children were all dead as well. She had been a Muggle, but a cocktail injected into her in Dachau had somehow made her a witch. Thus her lastborn child, born from a marriage to an American officer who decided to live in Germany, was a Half-Blood witch, or perhaps a Muggleborn, and thus Joshua was also magical.

But that wasn't what he was here to do. He was here to teach the Hogwarts students Transfiguration. He was an Animagus himself, and he was able to teach more than most people would be.

A flare of a black robe caused Joshua to look up. The new Potions Professor was striding down the hall as if he owned the place, his moustache trying unsuccessfully to hide his gleeful grin, and his dark eyes snapping behind thin lenses. The fair and unmarred face of the new Professor caused Joshua to go cold. Whoever he was, Joshua _didn't_ trust him as far as he could throw the blasted castle! Who was this man? He made Joshua want to run and hide, in a cesspool if necessary, to get _away_ from this man! He described the man to his grandmother in the last letter, hoping she would be able to identify him. If not, then he would just have to use his own independent study to find out who this man was.

* * *

Raquel Anderson nee Fritz, Dachau survivor, stared at the page of parchment. She rubbed the blue numbers tattooed into her left forearm, her blood running cold. Joshua's descriptions were perfect. How the Hell did Heinrich Himmler get a _teaching post_ at Hogwarts?! She had developed magical powers after she had been injected by some serum in Dachau, and now Himmler was a teacher. How many children would die this time? How many teachers would be tortured to death because of their ties to the Light? Would the school even survive? Raquel folded up the letter, and heard the owl screech in panic. It pounded at the glass windows, which were inexplicably closed. A bitter scent wafted into the room, coloring the air a light purple. The 91 year old woman gasped her shock as her lungs began to seize up. Someone found this out, and was now killing her with poison gas. How very ironic. She was dying the way she very well could have died in her 30's. _God, please watch out for Joshua, and for those children. They need Your help,_ she prayed as she breathed her last.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, how was that? **_

_**Balrog: Poor Raquel. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I agree. Well, death is a section we all have to go through. Please review, people! Thank you for your continued support, Fibinaci and Airlady!**_

_**CT **_


	21. Chapter 21

_**Celebwen Telcotnar: Sorry about the short chapter, but I found a place where I figured I could leave off. **_

_**Balrog: And why did you do that?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Because it was a good stopping point! Anyways, please review people! Hedwig is a very smart owl!**_

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**CT**

* * *

The train pulled into the station, and the children got off.

"Firs' years! Firs' years o'er 'ere!" a voice yelled. Harry and his friends looked up at a giant of a man, and Dudley squeaked.

"It's alright," Ron said. "That's Hagrid. Bill told me about him; he's great. Charlie says that he's always wanted a dragon, but that he never can have one because it'd burn down his house." Harry smothered a chuckle; Maggie would be flattered by this dragon lover.

_:Hey, you young idiot!: _a voice came hissing from the sky. Harry looked up, and the night-dark sky, covered with clouds, suddenly became as brightly illuminated as a sunset, the clouds gleaming pink and purple for a moment in the dragonfire. _:Yes, you, Harry! How could you leave me like that! I should beat you with the flat of my tail! You need to stay where I can see you, you overenthusiastic kit!:_ Harry closed his eyes and banged his head into the heel of his hand. Harry knew how the Wizarding World felt about Parslemouth's, and so he couldn't reveal his gift here. Hagrid looked up with a look of pure adoration on his face. He stopped, and bellowed: "Tha's a Welsh Scarlet! Wha' a beau'y! I allus wan'ed a dragon!" Harry stared at the giant, who looked like he might cry. Harry knew the powerful hearing of dragons: they had the strongest ears in the animal kingdom, magical or not.

_:Maggie:_ he whispered in Parseltongue, _:Go. I'll meet you in the Forest later.:_

_:Harry, please? Let me speak to you at the least!:_

_:Go, you blasted overgrown lizard!: _Harry retorted. In the commotion, Hedwig apparently decided to attack Ron. She did so, harrying at his hands until she was able to get hold of Scabbers. She then flew off, beating her wings with powerful muscles as Ron yelled in fury and pain. Maggie stared at the snowy owl, and then she flew off towards the forest, to Hagrid's displeasure. He moped for a few minutes, then led the First Years down towards the boats, Harry shaking his head.

"That was Maggie, wasn't it?" Dudley asked. Harry nodded.

"She thinks she needs to keep an eye on me all the time. I don't know how she's been keeping me in sight for the past few years since I met her, but she's been very careful to come to me if I am in danger. The one time she didn't come was when I was fighting Edward Kelly, and that was in Diagon Alley. She couldn't get there fast enough to help me, but hasn't let me out of her sight since. She obviously thinks I need constant protecting."

"Can you understand her?" Dudley asked. Ron, Anthony, Neville and Hermione stared at him. Harry nodded, and then got into a boat with Anthony. A girl with brown hair and a boy with olive skin got in with them, introducing themselves as Susan Bones and Blaize Zabini. Susan was relatively quiet the entire time.

Halfway through the ride, Harry heard a low sound coming from the bottom of the boat. He leaned close, and was rewarded with Trevor the toad leaping up into his face. He held a hand on Neville's pet, wondering where Hedwig was going with Scabbers. He was too big for her to eat on her own, and he was incredibly fat. Perhaps she was going to deliver him to his grandparents. Whatever she was doing, it wouldn't make Ron like him any more, and would probably make him like him even less.

Harry then kept his mind on the future of the year, and wondered at the things this year would bring.

* * *

The man sat at the scrubbed wooden table in the small shack he used as a home. He was unemployed; what company, Muggle or not, would take someone who couldn't show up on days of the month? His longest job, at a foul Muggle electronics place, was punctuated by the men calling him a girl because of his regular, monthly absences. Magical places found out that he was a werewolf, and he was immediately sacked.

He sighed, finishing the last of the food that was in the Muggle can of noodle loops and thin, watery, bad tasting tomato paste.

His musings were interrupted by a rapping on the window. He jumped up when he saw the owl sitting on his windowsill. Post! Who could have owled him? Did he get the janitorial job at Bubaxtons? He threw open the window, and the white owl soared in. In her talons was a rat. The lycanthrope looked at it. Maybe it would be able to be used as a meal in a couple days when he got desperate. Rats always reminded him of Wormtail, and he could never bring himself to eat one. Maybe the rat could be a pet.

He looked at it. Its right front paw was missing a toe. As Remus Lupin inhaled, a scent tickled his oversensitive nose. This rat didn't simply resemble Wormtail, he _was_ Wormtail! Remus was overjoyed! One of his childhood friends was alive, and now he could stay with someone who could accept him!

The owl hooted savagely, clawing the rat's back and causing him to squeak in pain. Remus fired the _Animagus Revelio_ spell at the rat, and Peter Pettigrew was laid out, naked, on the floor. Grime covered the Marauder, but no amount of grime could have covered the tattoo on his left forearm. Remus snarled in pain, disbelief, and shock. He pointed his wand directly at Pettigrew, and snarled the first curse that came to his mind. Boils and tentacles sprouted all over the Animagus' face, and Remus Lupin grabbed the rat, clearing up the disgusting facial features, then dressed him with a spell in a halter top and long pants. With a snarl, he pirouetted, Apparating into the British Ministry of Magic Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Amelia would know what to do! He realized that the white owl had come with him, and quickly wrote out a note for her master, thanking him for bringing a fugitive to justice, and then sent the owl on her way, marching his former friend down to the DMLE.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, how was that? **_

_**Balrog: You're screwing around with the timeline, Celebwen. You can't do this!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Of course I can. This is my story, so I can mess with the timeline as much as possible! So there! I'm just going to choose to let most of everything stay in the same timeline… I think. **_

_**CT**_


	22. Chapter 22

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well now, isn't this interesting?**_

_**Balrog: What? The fact that Hogwarts is about to have some racial and Semitic cleansing?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: No. That is not what I was about to say. It is interesting that I am already on my 22**__**nd**__** chapter! And 60 reviews! Yay!**_

_**Balrog: (Slowly backs up)**_

__

**Celebwen Telcontar: Please review, and have fun with the chapter!**

* * *

As the group of children approached the doors to the Great Hall, they fell into a line. Harry was between Anthony in front and Dudley behind him. He shook as he approached; what if what the twin boys had said was true? What if they did have to have a wrestling match with trolls and giants? Harry gulped. The doors opened ominously, and they filed out into the Hall.

On the dais was a stool, a battered hat on it. Harry approached with the rest, and a diminutive man with white hair began calling out names. The new students came up, tried on the hat, which shouted either "Gryffindor!", "Slytherin!", "Ravenclaw!", or "Hufflepuff!", and the student went to sit at the corresponding table. Susan Bones, who shared Harry's boat, was called, and went to the Hufflepuff table. Terry Boot, who also shared Harry's boat, went to the Ravenclaw table. Dudley was called later, and the blonde boy went up, visibly trembling. The hat sat on his head for quite some time before it shouted out "Hufflepuff!", and then more students were sorted. Then it was Anthony's turn, and he went to the Ravenclaw table, Hermione went to the Gryffindor table, Neville also went to Gryffindor, then the diminutive man shouted out: "McGonagall, Horace!" Harry made his way up, and placed the hat on his head.

—_Good evening,—_ the voice said in his head.

—_Good evening to you as well,— _Harry replied.

—_Now let's see where to put you… You would do very well in Slytherin, but that seems to be overshadowed by a thirst for knowledge, and a loyalty to your kin and friends. You also have a very healthy—or perhaps unhealthy—dose of courage. You fit into all four Houses, lad, and that's rare, it is. Which House for you? Hmmm… Difficult, difficult. I think you would do well in…_Gryffindor!! _Have a good year, young Heir!—_

Harry felt the hat removed from his head, and tottered over to the Gryffindor table. The Headmaster was looking very puzzled and disturbed about something, and Harry didn't know what it was. Then, the creases smoothed out into a smile as he looked at the students. Harry, sitting between Neville and Hermione, looked at the other students and trying not to stare at the ghost seated opposite him. Soon enough, it came to the W's, and Ron was sorted into Gryffindor before the hat got anywhere near his head, adding the comment: —Another Weasley! They're overrunning Gryffindor!— as a parting remark. The Gryffindor's chuckled, the twins most of all. They both grabbed him as he passed, sitting him between themselves and wound up doing arcane things to the redheaded boy's hair and robes. When the Sorting was finally finished, with Blaize going into Slytherin, the twins had turned Ron's robes pink and his hair blue, sporting tentacles that reminded Harry rather uncomfortably of a Gorgon. To keep his eye off of the put-upon Gryffindor, Harry looked up at the Head Table. In the places right beside the Headmaster, two men were sitting. The one on the left wore golden robes and was shifting uneasily in his seat, looking extremely pale. The whites were showing all around his eyes and he kept glancing to the bespectacled man on the Headmaster's right. The man with glasses on the other hand looked cool and collected, a smirk on his face and his uniform-like black robes making him seem sinister and cruel. His eyes were cold and unfeeling, and the left arm of his robes was dimpled slightly, as if he usually wore an armband of some kind. Hermione looked the way he was pointing, and squeaked in fear. Harry looked at her.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"That man… I've seen pictures of him. He was a member of the German Nazi Party, part of the Holocaust!" Hermione whispered softly. Her face was extremely pale, and her eyes held a terror that was only found in the golden-robed Professor. Harry looked around, and saw that Anthony also had his eyes fixed on the black robed man, and his face was extremely pale as well. He was muttering under his breath, and Harry looked closer at his own tables. A lot of Muggleborns, including Dean Thomas, were looking at the new Professor.

"What's the Nazi Party, exactly?" Harry asked.

"In the 1930's, after World War I, the Germans were very disheartened. The war had torn their country and government up to pieces, and Germans soon instituted a presidency. The third president was Adolph Hitler. He began to cause racial discrimination between Aryans (blonde-haired blue-eyed people) and others, and also had a policy of anti-Semitism. He—"

"What is anti-Semitism?" Harry asked Hermione.

"No tolerance for Jewish people. My mother is Jewish, and my grandmother was in a minor concentration camp for a couple months before the American's liberated it in 1945. My father's Christian. Anyways, Hitler began to get several people together and caused the Jews to go into concentration camps where millions of people were killed. The Professor over there looks like someone from a picture of the Concentration Camp Dachau. It could be… Possibly a high-ranking officer in the SS, but I'm not certain. I'd need to go to the library for certain. Probably a Muggle library; I don't know if the Magical library would have stuff on the SS." She finished speaking to him and continued mumbling to herself, making Harry all the more confused. Her mumbling was at a rate where he could only hear a low grumble, like a Muggle engine. She was obviously rather distressed, and it showed in the way she muttered. When the food appeared, she got a helping of mashed potatoes, still mumbling, and poured a good deal of cranberry dressing all over them. She took a piece, and looked at her plate, unable to chew. She scraped the mess off to one side, and it vanished. She then replaced it with mashed potatoes in gravy, which was her obvious intention at first.

Harry realized that the man up at the head table had ordered the other man to kill him. Whatever Maggie did to the assassin, Harry would make sure the professor received word of it, and in a rather dramatic fashion.

"McGonagall," Ron called from across the table. "Where's that bloody white owl?" The redhead looked like he had been crying and his face was red, probably with anger and loss.

"I really don't know. Hedwig took your rat and flew off for no reason."

"She really hated Scabbers," Ron said before going back to his meat loaf.

* * *

Hedwig flew softly, her wings hardly beating. The man below her was on his broom, a device he admitted to her he was rather rusty on. She hooted encouragingly at him, and then dove into the forest surrounding the castle her human was in. The dragon looked up at her approach, and clocked her with bright gold slit-pupiled eyes that narrowed as she saw the human.

_**Owl, why do you bring me a human? Are you worried about my supper situation?**_ The dragon's voice was a hoot filled with fire. It was a well-known fact that all dragons knew all languages, but used them only when they chose to.

_**No, I do not, Dragon. This human needs your help. I will help him, Dragon, and so will you.**_ Hedwig's reply was stern. She knew that the human near her needed the dragon's help.

_**With what, Owl?**_

_**This human needs help to remove a human from a mews for his kind. The human is innocent of all wrongdoing. **_

_**I see. So you want me to go on a mercy mission. And why can't his own kind help him?**_

_**Because he is unable to get aid from anyone. **_

_**I see. I will go because I can scent young Horace on him. He is one of those closer to the Wild Hunter than anyone else. If only for Cernunnos' sake, I will take him. **_"Come, Human," she said vocally. "Get onto my back." She stood for the man, who climbed onto her back, rather unsteadily. She launched herself skywards, sending trees skidding every which way, and began to fly with the human. Hedwig stayed close, and before the sun completely dawned behind them, they had reached a large island. It was in the North Sea, a rather unforgiving place. Hedwig now perched on one of her new friend's horns, and soon a gout of flame seared away a door. Strange black-cloaked things came out, and were incinerated by the dragoness. She ripped apart the entire jail, discarding scalded bodies and charred unrecognizable remains of what were once humans every which way and where until she got to a single cell. She grabbed the inmate in her claws, and lifted off. Hedwig stayed away from the dragon's mouth as she ignited the entire building. The man in her claws was limp and obviously tired. She handed him up to the other man, and both of them sat on her back before she soared back to her homeland. Hedwig hooted her gratitude, and the dragon replied in kind before heading to the Southeast, probably going to Australia.

* * *

_Grandmother,_

_Things have been very strange here of late. Maggie followed me to Hogwarts, and now I can't find her. Hedwig also disappeared with a fellow student's rat. I thought she only ate frogs and other much smaller animals than rats! This one was so fat; I think she might have not been able to restrain herself. _

_Also, Professor Orpheus has died and been replaced with a Professor Blitz. Blitz is tall, pale and has dark brown hair, wearing form fitting black robes, and he wears glasses. He sets you at ease almost instantly, aside from some of the people here. Hermione Granger, one of my fellow Gryffindors, is terrified by him, as is Professor Schmidt, the Transfiguration Professor. Other Muggle-Borns are also affected by him, and are terrified of him. The only link that I can find about them is that they all are or have a family member who's religion is Jewish. The people best affected by it are blondes with blue eyes and fair skin, mostly tall. I don't know what to make of this. Hermione mentioned a man called something Hitler, and thought that the Professor might be a member of the National Socialist German Worker's Party, whatever _that_ is. Hermione spends almost all her time in the library now, looking up stuff that she can't seem to find. You've told me that the Hogwarts library is one of the most up-to-date libraries out there, but she can't seem to find anything on the NSGWP. Please reply with whatever you can find on the subject, I sent an order form to Flourish and Blotts to try to find anything about it. They replied that they have nothing on it and have never heard of it. _

_Please reply soon, _

_Your grandson, _

Horace James Evan McGonagall McPhaerson

_Heir to the McGonagall Lairdship_

Harry finished writing his letter, then carefully stamped wet the end with some water. He stamped his Heir's Ring in the wet portion, placing a rather powerful Warming Charm on the ring so that it would emboss the parchment. With a twist of his mind, he made sure that the picture on the ring was three-dimensional. It was the McGonagall Celtic Knot design surrounding the ancient symbol of the Morrigu, the Carrion Crow. At the top of the Knot was a thistle blossom. All of this was in an oval, signifying that it was the Heir that had stamped the letter, and not the Ruler of the Clan. After finishing embossing the paper, he rolled it into a scroll. He lit the end of a sealing wax candle, and stamped the head of his Heir's Ring into it. He then set the completed letter aside for when Hedwig returned so she could send it to his grandparents.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, how was that?**_

_**Balrog: Can you say nothing else? That's what you say every time we finish a chapter!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: And that's bad?**_

_**Balrog: I give up. Where's Jim Henson?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Dead. Sorry. But you're stuck with me. **_

_**CT**_


	23. Chapter 23

**_Celebwen Telcontar: We have a rather lively chapter here for you all. (Puts on 1812 Overture by Tchaikovsky)_**

_**Balrog: Apparently from the music there's a mustering of cannonade in the chapter, is there? **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: No. Just some rather large explosions. **_

__

**CT**

The day started out well enough. In Defense Class, Professor Quirrell was often speaking incredibly fast, as well as having a bright look in his eye and a flush to his cheeks. He expected only the best, though, and began them on the Disarming spell at first. He wouldn't rest until the end of class, when Ron's overenthusiastic spell sent his partner, a girl named Parvati Patil through the window. Only Professor Quirrell's quick _Accico Student_ saved her. Then Ron partnered up with Harry. They were only supposed to perform the Disarming spell, but Ron took exception to the fact that Hedwig had stolen Scabbers, and instead of Disarming Harry, he sent a spell at Harry that he had mumbled. The insides of Harry's nostrils felt like they were on fire. A small, wriggling body worked its way out of Harry's nose, and began beating Harry with its goopy wings. More continued, until bat bogies surrounded Harry's head. The Professor banished the animated snot, and subtracted ten points from Gryffindor for Ron's immaturity. Professor Quirrell himself took Harry aside to help him with the defense, while Ron sat at his desk, moping.

During Transfiguration, Professor Schmidt was too frightened of his own shadow to do anything. He tried to turn a match into a needle for an example to the students, but instead turned the matchstick into a Jewish Matchmaker, who proclaimed that his match was Professor Vector, and then that Lavender Brown's match was Seamus Finnegan and Harry's was Parvati. Professor Schmidt stammered out his gratitude, and pushed the protesting matchmaker out the door before she could match up any more eleven year olds. He then ignored the class and watched the door like a hawk, his face pale. The students didn't get anything done that day, aside from Neville blowing up his match as though it had been transfigured into TNT.

The entire class missed Charms, as they were in the Hospital Wing getting burn ointment from Madame Pomphry, and Neville and Lavender, who were working together, had to be sent to St. Mungo's. The scorch mark on the ceiling of the Transfiguration room was never properly removed, and the hallway was doused with rubble, the explosion having gone mostly outward and upward, leaving a portion of the blast shadow in the Transfiguration room. The class had to be moved as the explosion weakened the ceiling and demolished the hall.

During Herbology, the class had to make a good fertilizer. One of the materials was a high-oxygen nitrate, making certain that the plant could breathe properly. When Seamus and Dean, who were partners, set their fertilizer beside the glass panel to get a seedling to plant, the glass augmented the sunlight. The heat of the sun reacted to the nitrate and pure oxygen in the fertilizer, causing the entire batch to go up in flames, taking the greenhouse with it, but Professor Sprout saw the fertilizer smoking soon enough so that the class had enough warning to get out. They managed to get their book bags, but the rest of the Greenhouse was gone in a rather large eruption of chemicals and plants in seconds.

* * *

Professor Dumbledore looked at the two Professors. How had the First Year Gryffindor class managed to blow up half the school? Architects from Gringotts were coming later to check the floor, ceiling and walls of the Transfiguration room, seeing if it could be used again at all. The first Greenhouse, in which he had a lemon tree seedling, was now a mangled mess of metal and glass on the lawn. He just hoped that the dungeons would be safe the next day. The First Years weren't doing anything explosive in Potions next, he hoped. What could go wrong?

* * *

In Potions, Harry looked up at the Professor, who seemed to have eyes only for him.

"Ah, Harry Potter," he began. Harry was confused. He was Horace McGonagall, of Clan McGonagall, not Harry Potter. Harry Potter was a myth; the boy had died at the same time that the crazed ex-nutcase had died. Unfortunately, everyone's eyes were on him. Everyone was now staring him at him. "Well, welcome to First Year potions. I am Professor Blitz, and I will be watching your every move. The study of potions is an exact science, you must know everything you put into a potion, and know the interactions and reactions of every other element in the potion. Now, where are the last two students here?" Parvati raised her hand and was subsequently called on.

"They are currently at St. Mungo's hospital for blowing up the Transfiguration room," she said softly. The professor's eyebrows raised.

"Das Sprengen eines Zimmers? Interessant. Sehr interessanter ... und sehr vielversprechend," he mentioned. No one understood him. The professor handed out caldrons, writing a potion on the board to use. The students went to the supply cupboard to get the ingredients, and soon they were slicing, dicing, cutting and mashing ingredients to put in their caldrons.

Hermione, who was working with Harry, wasn't concentrating on her work, but on the Professor. Her limbs shook multiple times, accidentally dumping too much of this ingredient or too little of that one into the potion. Soon, it wasn't the grey that it should have been, but a licorice like black. The smoke that it belched made Harry's eyes water and his lungs burn, and the entire class was suffering.

"Jeder, kommen Sie herunter! Halten Sie Ihren Atem! Atmen Sie die Ausströmungen nicht! Was denken Sie, dass Sie, Sie Kindchen taten?! Sie haben einen schrecklich Gas- geschaffen!" the professor yelled. He grabbed Harry's arm and forced him out of the class, one hand over Harry's nose and mouth. The other students filed out quickly; even though the Professor yelling in a different language, they figured fleeing was a good idea, and the Professor used _augmenti_ on the fumes. The water weighed them down, but Hermione was shaking now, and her eyes were clouded over in a blind fog. She was obviously somewhere else in her mind. Harry only hoped that this was as bad as it was going to get. He was still hacking madly when he arrived at the Hospital Wing with the entire class. Professor Blitz apparently hadn't breathed any of the fumes, and so was fine.

"What on… Dear Merlin. You Gryffindors are blowing up the entire castle!" The matron ran her wand on Hermione first as she was the most affected. "What I don't understand—My God above! Holy Christ and the Cross! Mustard gas!" With a wave of her wand, the entire room was filled with a deep purple mist. "Breathe it in, everyone, it will help with your lungs. Go on, please. If you don't, you'll die! Professor Blitz, come with me!" The two of them left.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: A rather scary end, don't you think?**_

_**Balrog: I don't get it. Mustard gas was used in WWI, not WWII. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: It's a deadly gas all the same. The translations for the German are down below. I hope that they're correct; I used an online translator since I do not speak German. **_

__

**CT**

Das Sprengen eines Zimmers? Interessant. Sehr interessanter ... und sehr vielversprechend. _Exploding a room? Interesting. Very interesting... and very promising._

* * *

Jeder, kommen Sie herunter! Halten Sie Ihren Atem! Atmen Sie die Ausströmungen nicht! Was denken Sie, dass Sie, Sie Kindchen taten?! Sie haben einen schrecklich Gas- geschaffen! _Everyone, get down! Hold your breath! Don't breathe the fumes! What do you think you were doing, you chit?! You've created a deadly gas! _


	24. Chapter 24

_**Celebwen Telcontar: And now we get to see what our doggie and wolfie friends are up to!**_

_**Balrog: Doggie and wolfie? **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Whatever.**_

__

**CT**

* * *

Sirius Orion Black lay facedown across something hot and leathery. A steadying hand was on his back, and he rose in circles then fell straight forward every few minutes, floating on whatever the hot, leathery thing was. How long had it been since Peter had betrayed them? How many years, decades, or centuries? He forced his eyes open, and saw red. Something bright red was under him, moving, raising and dropping. A thudding sound filled his ears. He could hear, hear something other than himself and Wormtail, and see something other than James and Lily's dead faces staring up at him.

"Where am I?" he tried to say. It came out as a wheezing, hoarse croak.

"Padfoot?" a voice said to him.

"Moony?" he tried to reply. His parched throat made the word impossible to get out.

"How is he?" a female voice boomed from way ahead of them.

"He's waking up, Lady Magma," Remus called back. "Is there anyplace we can get some water?"

"Not now. We're about five leagues away from Melbourne and the McGonagall Clan Estate," the aforementioned Lady Magma replied. The ride lurched again, then stayed steady for a few minutes. It circled around several times, making Sirius slightly dizzy, then glided straight for a while, and kept doing this for quite a while.

"What's the ride?" Sirius managed in a more healthy tone. He could smell some salt air, and knew he was near the ocean. It also smelled like spring.

"We're riding on Lady Magma, a very young Welsh Scarlet female."

"A—we're riding on a dragon?" Sirius choked.

"The spiraling is apparently gliding up a thermal then jumping to the next one over. It's better over deserts, or so Lady Magma has told me."

"Damn and blast!" the dragon cursed. There was a sound of rushing wind, and the skin that Sirius ws pressed against got much hotter, and the dragon was then climbing like mad.

"What she was just doing is heating the air so she can climb better," Remus explained.

"Can I sit astride her? Her backbone is killing my stomach."

"We'll reach land soon enough. How are you, Little Ghost?" Remus commented. Sirius turned his head, seeing Remus' leg. He groaned. "Little Ghost is an owl that's come with us. It's a snowy owl, and has a rather important looking letter to its owner's grandparents here," the lycanthrope explained. "I don't know her real name, so I call her "Little Ghost". Pettigrew is in the Ministry, Padfoot, and they wouldn't do anything so Lady Magma decided to do something for us."

"I see," Sirius croaked. The gliding got faster, and then it got a bit bumpier. Lady Magma beat her wings a couple times, then apparently landed on the foreground of a cave. She walked in, tucking her wings in and making Sirius swelteringly hot.

"Thank you, Lady Magma, you've been a great help. I don't know what I would have done without you." The Animagus slid face first off of the dragon's back, and landed on his outstretched hands, doing a rather inelegant flop onto the cave floor. A white shape glided past his nose, and the snowy owl went through the cave. Remus followed it, Sirius in his wake, trying to remember how to walk. When he couldn't walk on two legs, he transformed, and trotted up as Padfoot. They came to a large section of stairs, and Remus knelt to pick up the large dog. "Merlin, Padfoot, you're light." The two of them followed the owl, which stopped so they could catch up. Then a door opened.

"Hedwig!" a voice cried. "It's good to see you. What's Harry sent?" The voice belonged to a middle-aged woman with graying red hair in a braid about her head. "Oh my. Remus Lupin, what are you doing on my doorstep?!"

"Do I know you?" Remus asked. The woman looked scandalized, then laughed.

"I forgot how long I've worn this disguise, Mr. Lupin. Please, come in. And is that a stray?"

"Er… No. This is Padfoot, my dog. He's rather sick at the moment."

"I see. You are a horrible liar. I always found your stories of a sick mother rather difficult to believe. Who is he really? An Unregistered Animagus, I'll guess. I seem to remember pranks in the halls signed by "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs". A student from your year? And so sick… I'd guess that you have done some breaking into Azkaban, haven't you?"

"Who are you?!" Remus yelped.

"Mr. Lupin, you will give me that flea bitten murderer at once! I'd give fifty points to Gryffindor for the Transfiguration, but from an escaped criminal… no. And how could you go and break him out? He as good as killed Lily and James."

"Professor McGonagall… I didn't recognize you…" Remus breathed. Padfoot whined pleadingly.

"Absolutely not. That mangy cur is going into the sea this instant!" Professor McGonagall bellowed.

Padfoot had had enough. He jumped down from Remus' arms and lay on the floor, transforming back into Human shape.

"It was Pettigrew. I switched Secret Keepers at the last moment. We all thought that Remus would be the traitor… Sorry, Moony."

"You're forgiven, Padfoot." Remus carded a hand through Sirius' tangled and matted hair.

"We thought that I would be chosen to be tortured for the location of Godric's Hollow. _Pettigrew_ was with _him_ all along. All bloody long!" Sirius raged at the rat, surging to his feet. "Let me go! Let me find that _rat_!" Sirius had been straining too much against half-dead muscles bones and sinew. He passed out from malnutrition at the feet of his former Professor and best friend.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, I had to get Sirius out of Azkaban as soon as possible. **_

_**Balrog: And there's something wrong with that? I like Sirius. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Good, so do I.**_


	25. Chapter 25

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Please read and review!**_

_**Balrog: You're not telling them anything about what the chapter is about?!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, they'll just have to read, won't they!**_

_**Balrog: Lovely. And with Boromir's line… **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Boromir's line? What line? Boromir doesn't have a line here! Boromir is from the Lord of the Rings, in case you're wondering, Balrog! And what line of Boromir's are you talking about?!**_

_**Balrog: You know the one. "They have a cave-troll!" **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Scowls) Don't give the plot away, you blasted inverted furnace!**_

__

**CT**

* * *

Voldemort, once Tom Riddle, now occupying the body of a convenient servant, paced. He was not happy with his new ally, and Himmler seemed to be following an agenda all his own. The black uniform that the creature wore grated on his nerves and the servant was a free-thinking thing, sometimes expressing his need to be free of the parasite living in his body in an unusual way. Once he had burned some books of Himmler's, some that he was certain would get him in trouble. The best thing that could be said for the situation was that Himmler had not been notified of the vandalism yet.

Thus Voldemort had to cultivate a new comrade, one who could get him Potter and keep the boy fearful enough that Voldemort could have his fun before becoming completely immune to attack. That blasted Prophecy that Severus had brought him so long ago had made him rashly attack the Potters, and then Voldemort had met his downfall. Perhaps that was the prophecy, and Voldemort was open to attack by anyone, but he wasn't going to be careless now.

Then there was the matter of that flobberworm Quirrell. The man was a spineless piece of manure, nothing greater than glorified fertilizer. The Headmaster, that insane idiot, had somehow found out his Animagus form and driven him from Quirrell in the only feasible way, keeping a rooster somewhere in that damned office!

Voldemort swung his body to the left to avoid the onrushing wall, and paced the opposite way. The room was exactly fifteen paces wide in either direction, thirteen if one wanted not to run into the walls.

A sound of breaking glass caused the parasite-infested servant to look up, and found that the window had shattered under the impact of a rather large Burrowing Owl. The bird flapped clumsily up to Voldemort's shoulders, and held out a scroll for the Dark Lord to read. After carefully peeling off the strange half-globe seal inscribed with strange runes and a winged humanoid creature, Voldemort read the letter. He began to chuckle, liking the way things were falling into place. If all went well, then this year he would be able to rule England with the same fear as he did before. The puppet smiled for its host, then got some parchment and began writing instructions back to the sender of the letter. A good distraction would be needed so that he could get into the school, and besides, he needed that stone to make himself a new body. He could then shape his body so that he no longer needed the Philosopher's Stone, and would keep it so that only he could use it at need. It was a brilliant plan.

* * *

_Die Fahne hoch! Die Reihen fest geschlossen! _

_S. A. marschiert mit ruhig festem Schritt. _

_Kameraden, die Rotfront und Reaktion erschossen, _

_Marschieren im Geist in unseren Reihen mit. _

_Die Straße frei den braunen Batallionen. _

_Die Straße frei dem Sturmabteilungsmann! _

_Es schaun aufs Hakenkreuz voll Hoffnung schon Millionen. _

_Der Tag für Freiheit und für Brot bricht an! _

_Zum letzten Mal wird nun Appell geblasen! _

_Zum Kampfe steh'n wir alle schon bereit! _

_Bald flattern Hitlerfahnen über Barrikaden. _

_Die Knechtschaft dauert nur noch kurze Zeit! _

_Die Fahne hoch! Die Reihen fest geschlossen! _

_SA marschiert mit ruhig-festem Schritt. _

_Kameraden, die Rotfront und Reaktion erschossen, _

_Marschieren im Geist in unseren Reihen mit. _

The song came whispering through the corridors as the Potions Master sang it under his breath. It was the long-banned "Horst Wessel Lied", the anthem of the Nazi Party long ago. The people hearing it, even and perhaps especially, in his native German, would be shivering by now. He was looking forward to teaching his soon-to-be protégé the old ways, the tongue of the Fatherland, and the beauty of the world as he knew it.

He marched to the Great Hall, subconsciously making his feet keep time with the old tune that he so loved. It was suppertime, and it was Halloween, a very potent time for magic here. Perhaps he could use one of his potions to get Potter to listen to him until he was knew the glory of the old days. It was a chance. Heinrich Himmler marched the rest of the way to the Great Hall, a smile on his lips.

Then, he saw the Defense Teacher, Quernius Quirrell, come tearing down the aisle, screaming his head off.

"_Troll! There's a blasted troll in the dungeons!"_ He turned, firing a very strong locking spell, if Himmler was any judge, at the doors. They were fastened shut completely, and the four House Heads were left to try and keep the students in hand. He saw Potter sneaking away, followed by others he had befriended from every house, and followed after the inter-House group, silently, his black robes making him able to hide in the shadows.

"—So, Hermione went into the bathroom to _cry_?" the red-head asked incredulously.

"Yah." The students heard the sound almost before Himmler did, and they swung around. Weasley screamed, catching the troll's stupid look before he fainted. Zabini aimed a Cutting Curse at the beast's knees, which only served to enrage the creature. Then, Potter chose to do something strange. He became a four-legged creature. It looked somewhat like a cat, but was also a lot like the draconian-equis creatures that drew the carriages outside. The creature was black with pupil-less milky white eyes; a thick flat ruff of skin was like a cobra's hood when closed. Whatever he was, it was frightening. Himmler smiled; the creature was beautiful, that was certain. It was meant for destruction.

Potter opened his mouth, and lunged for the leg of the troll, fastening glistening fangs in the Achilles tendon. It bellowed, probably more from anger than from pain, and swung clumsily at the thing biting it. With a lucky stroke, it hit Potter on the edge of a shoulder, and a sickening _Crack!_ sounded through the hallway. The creature gave off a loud hiss-yelp, then crumpled. Longbottom grabbed the strange beast by one hind leg and dragged him away from danger as Goldstein began to fire off First-Year level curses left and right at the troll.

If Himmler couldn't face a troll with no weapon, then what could he do? The veteran picked up a piece of ceramic, and began lobbing it at the attacking troll. The creature turned at Himmler's shout. Granger saw the opening that the old leader of the _Schutzstaffel_ had given, and used a Levitation spell to clonk the creature on the head with its own club. The beast swayed slightly, then turned to the attacker's direction, which to the troll was up, then began flailing its arms skyward. Longbottom gave a scream as a leg came perilously close to squashing him and Potter, and Himmler inserted himself between the schoolchildren and the troll.

"Gehen Sie! Kommen Sie hier heraus! Sie werden nur getötet! Kommen Sie hier heraus und bringen Sie dieses Ding mit Ihnen! Gehen Sie! Ich werde mich mit dem Troll befassen!" he shouted. The children who were conscious looked oddly at him.

"Professor?" the shaking girl asked. "Can—can you please speak English?"

"Go! Get out of here! Now!" He picked up another piece of masonry and flung it at the angry troll. Zabini cast a low-level Dark curse, the Blood Boiler if Himmler had his incantations right. When that didn't work, Granger tried a Transfiguration spell. The creature was Transfigured indeed, into a larger troll with very pale skin and humongous eyes. A cave-troll. Very dangerous, more so than a mountain troll.

"Uh-oh…" Granger whispered.

"Mussten Sie das, Sie versuchen, Scheide des Weibchens-Juden bumsend?!" Himmler snarled at her. She squished herself against the side of the wall, going white.

"Tun Sie nicht Sie wagen, sie eine Scheide, Sie Nazistischer Bastard zu nennen!" Goldstien hissed in his direction. The boy knew German, and quite well too.

Suddenly, Professors Flitwick and Schmidt were among the fighters, casting multiple charms and hexes.

"Out of my way!" Flitwick squeaked, casting a mirror charm on the floor then rolling out of the way for Schmidt to fire a very strong blasting curse at the mirror charm, reflecting it up into the troll's face. Even with ruined features a cave troll could still fight. It swung its club at Schmidt, who leapt over it and lunged to allow Flitwick to aim at it and hit the troll with a Bafflement spell. The troll began to moan, hitting multiple targets only it could see. A Banishing curse hit the troll in the back, sending it flying into an exposed pipe, injecting it with a great deal of toilet water. The creature groaned, gurgled, and finally expired.

"What were you _thinking_?!" the Charms Professor squealed. "You lot, all _first year students_ could have gotten yourselves killed!! You will all have detention with Hagrid starting tomarrow! And you… Hans Blitz, you are a _Squib_, and cannot cast spells! How did you hold this thing off! How did it get here in the first place?!"

"I do not know," Himmler began. Granger and Goldstein, who were staring at him, had puzzled looks on their faces. Goldstein looked murderous.

"If you ever, I mean _ever_ call anyone here anything like what you called Hermione, I will make certain that you know your place!" the boy snarled in the Squib's direction. Schmidt looked at him, confused.

"What did he say, Goldstein?" Schmidt asked.

"_Er nannte Hermione a_ _Scheißscheide und ein Weibchen-Jude_."

"He—_Hans!" _Schmidt roared. Himmler felt his irritation cease, and he felt as he had in the _Der dritte Riech_ under Hitler. It felt good to have the old feelings back, warm and safe.

And then, Schmidt's hands were on his lapels, and he was being slammed up against the wall. Multiple things were happening at once, including the strange creature waking up and hissing at Schmidt. Goldstein looked oddly at the creature and then began yelling in German, as did Schmidt. Flitwick yelled in English about being unable to understand the argument. Granger was looking from person to person, obviously confused. The situation was quickly deteriorating, and the interrogation was reminiscent of the one Himmler was supposed to have gotten at the hands of Churchill and his cronies. A thick, viscous rage bubbled up within the man. His vision began to go red, and slowly the he began to get hot. Then, everyone was thrown from him in a colossal explosion of heat and sound. He stared around at what he had caused, and his vision started to go grey, and then finally went black.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, that was interesting.**_

_**Balrog: Finally, someone taking him to task! Was that Accidental Magic?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Yes. The way I see it, Muggles have no magic, Squibs have a bit and Wizards and Witches have quite a bit more than that. Squibs thus can use the magic they do possess to do accidental magic from time to time when they feel extremely pressured and or threatened.**_

_**CT**_


	26. Chapter 26

_**Celebwen Telcontar: This is interesting! **_

_**Balrog: And what of the Nazi?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, you'll just have to see, won't you?**_

_**CT**_

* * *

The man stalked through the hallways, his scowl causing multiple people to scurry from him in fear. He stopped by the portrait of Audra Selene, a Gryffindor in the graduating class of 1589, whom had been a Baroness in her time. The portrait looked at him, scrutinizing his expression.

"Good evening," she said. "I presume you are here to see a Gryffindor?"

"Yes, Madame."

"I am afraid that I cannot allow you into the dorm without the proper password."

"Who set the password, Baroness Selene?" the man asked.

"I did."

"Alright…" The man looked around.

"Severus. Why are you here?" a voice asked. Severus Snape whirled around, his robes snapping, to face Professor Joshua Schmidt.

"I am here for my student, who has gotten himself in a battle with a troll."

"Yes, those would be McGonagall, Longbottom, Granger, Weasley, Goldstein, and Zabini. Dursley was in detention at the time and so couldn't come with the other students."

"I see…" Severus said. "What exactly happened?"

"From what Professor Blitz says, Weasley fainted, McGonagall transformed into a strange Dark Animagus creature and was subsequently clubbed by the troll, Granger knocked the troll on the head with its own club, Zabini tried unsuccessfully to boil its blood, and Professor Hans Blitz, a Squib, flung pieces of masonry at it. Flitwick and I arrived, and Banished it into a wall and a pipe, killing it. I then got a bit out of control, since Blitz was calling Granger a few nasty names as well as trying to get her out of the way, and I slammed him against the wall. He then exuded Accidental Magic, and flung me away from him as McGonagall woke up and _hissed_ at me, protecting that Nazi."

"You call Blitz a Nazi… why?"

"He was using terms that I would believe are Nazism in extreme, including calling her a "Jewess Bitch" or something like that."

"A… I see," Severus said softly. "Where are they now?"

"They, and Dursley, are all in the Hospital Wing. Dursley, Longbottom, Goldstein, Granger and Zabini are there for support, everyone else was injured. The troll fell on Weasley when it was blown off the pipe by the water pressure."

"Thank you, Schmidt," Severus said softly before he headed down to the Hospital Wing.

When he arrived, he saw an old man, presumably Professor Blitz, lying on a bed, muttering to himself in what Severus thought was German. He couldn't be sure, though. Another bed held a young man with red hair, being looked over by Poppy Pomphry.

"Hello, Severus," Poppy said upon his arrival.

"Poppy. How is my student?"

"Three cracked ribs on the left side, the left scapula shattered, his left upper humerus was ground into a pulp and so I had to vanish that and the scapula and feed him SkeleGrow. The left side of his clavicle has to be immobilized for about three weeks while the bone knits together. If I vanished his clavicle as well, there'd be a chance of it not growing together properly and his right other scapula shifting to the left. He's lucky to be alive. Besides that, after all that heals, he'll have to go to Rubeus' place to get his Animagus form's wing healed up properly. The bones were completely shattered and there is a possibility of an infection. I would just Vanish them and feed him more SkeleGrow, however that is for the larger bones and not delicate ones, and it works best on humans. I tried it with a bird when I was an apprentice, and the bird's bones became solid and the bird never flew again."

"That would probably effect all of Harry's forms," Severus mused.

"Form_s_? As in… more than one? No Animagus to my knowledge has had more than one Form!" Poppy yelped. Harry moaned and rolled over, hissing as he encountered his healing bones.

"Hush, Harry," Severus said, gently pushing the hair from the boy's head. Harry leaned into the touch, making Severus softly snort derisively. Poppy smiled.

"Sir," Longbottom asked.

"Yes?"

"Will Harry be alright?"

"Of course he will," Severus assured before he realized what he was saying. "He'd better be."

"Yes, he should," a new voice said. Severus looked over to see Professor Hans Blitz looking at Harry. Severus took a good look at the man. Skinny as a bean pole, with thick horn rimmed glasses. His dark hair was chopped short, almost a military cut. He was very pale, and looked as though he had almost no sun exposure. His dark eyes were intelligent and calculating. A name escaped Severus, though he knew he had seen him before. For some reason, Severus imagined that he enjoyed the color black.

With a yell, Harry awoke, sitting up very fast.

"Professor Blitz! You're alright! Thank you for helping us; I remember you attacking the troll with bits of sink and wall before I passed out. Are you alright? No one else was hurt, right?" The Professor looked indulgent.

"I am fine, young one. I thank you for your concern, though I must say, never again should you take on a fully grown Mountain Troll. Or a Cave Troll for that matter." The scolding made Harry look slightly sheepish.

"Sorry, Professor. But the troll would have found Hermione if I hadn't done anything!"

"Yes, I understand that sometimes you must bend or break the rules for friends and to protect those you care about. I myself have done that on occasion; my father was a Headmaster of a school and I felt that I needed to be part of a greater universe, and when I did so, my father was furious. My Austrian friend, though, was worth it, as was the history of the world." The professor stood up, swaying slightly.

"Hans Blitz! Sit down this _instant_ young man!" Poppy snarled at him. Sheepishly, he fell back onto his bed in a ramrod straight position.

"Never mind me leaving, apparently I am not."

"No you most certainly are not, Hans! Now, stay here, and I mean it! You have magic depletion, which especially in a Squib is very dangerous! You are staying here until your magic levels are as high as they can get!" The Potions Professor looked very sheepish now, almost wilting. Severus smirked.

"Who is your Austrian friend?" Severus asked casually. He had an inkling of who Hans Blitz might be, but he needed to know the identity of his "Austrian Friend" first. That would clinch it.

"Just a friend. He is no longer alive." The simple two sentences made Severus' curiosity rise. The Professor was avoiding the subject.

"Was he a wizard?" Severus asked casually. Blitz shook his head. His eyes were starting to get a bit too moist for normality.

"Severus, please don't go asking him ridiculous questions," Harry said. "He saved our lives. We owe him our respect for that at least."

"Alright. I'll be keeping an eye on you, though, _Blitz_." Severus turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Harry looking confused and Blitz looking thoroughly blank. That only confirmed his suspicions. Only someone guilty of who-knew-what would have such a blank façade in their arsenal of facial expressions. _I will find out who you are, Hans Blitz. You are not Hans Blitz, anymore than I am a ballerina, _Severus thought decisively.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, what did you think?**_

_**Balrog: Interesting. Heinrich Himmler certainly has a lot to hide! And who's his Austrian friend?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Only the F**__**ü**__**her of the Third Reich. **_

_**Balrog: The… Adolf Hitler? **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, they were friends, and not just colleagues.**_

_**Balrog: Now I'm frightened. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I'm sure. You, a big ruddy balrog, afraid of a Human leader? Well, that's new. Please review, people!**_

_**CT**_


	27. Chapter 27

_**Celebwen Telcontar: This chapter is dedicated to Airlady, for her inspiration on a character in the chapter. **_

_**Balrog: Who? Is it another Third Reich idiot?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: They aren't idiots, and in fact Hitler was a very accomplished orator. **_

_**Balrog: Whatever.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Please review, people! **_

__

**CT**

"Oh, please!" a voice said, sarcastic and annoyed. Valerie looked up to see Maggie's glowing eyes in her scarlet face. "We dragons are almost as truth-sensitive as gryphons are, Valerie. The werewolf and the human-Grim are perfectly fine. Besides, I could smell the stink of half-starved human the entire time I carried him here. No one should have to live in those conditions, especially not a framed man." Maggie snorted her derision, igniting a row of torches over Valerie's head and smoldering the woman's hair.

"Magma!" Valerie snapped. The scarlet dragon's head snapped up and she bared her teeth. Valerie wasn't impressed. "There is a reason for criminals to stay in a secure area!"

"Lady Valerie Minerva Juno McGonagall McPhaerson!" Maggie snapped; smoke pouring out of her nostrils.

"Magma, I cannot condone—"

"Sirius Polaris Orion Nyte Black is innocent! It was Peter Pettigrew whom was the true traitor to the Lord James Horace Jacob Prewett Potter and Lady Lilia Rose Evans Potter."

"Pettigrew? I still don't believe it. Little Peter couldn't hold a Shield Charm against a Jelly-Legs hex; much less explode a street full of Muggles. And how do you say he escaped? He being an Animagus is very far fetched, Maggie. Peter would be impossible to do that. He may have been an Earth Elemental, but he wasn't strong enough to perform the Animagus Transformation on his own."

"Correct, Valerie. Lord Potter and Sirius Black were aiding and abetting Pettigrew into becoming an Animagus."

"Let me see if I can get this straight. James, Sirius and Peter decided to become Animagi to help Remus with his lycanthrope, and then when You-Know-Who attacked James and Lily, they had switch Secret Keepers to Peter instead of Sirius. Then, after Horace was orphaned, Sirius confronted Peter, and Peter somehow blew up a street over his shoulder and somehow escaped? This is a bit far-fetched, Magma."

"Pettigrew is a rat Animagus," Maggie said in reply.

"Alright, so that's how he escaped. But what about blowing up the street?"

"I believe that he used the Dark Bludgeoning Curse. It doesn't take much power to cast, and it can destroy just about anything."

"That is true, Maggie, but still! Amelia would have mentioned that Sirius was innocent!"

"And if he never received a trial?" Maggie pointed out, growling.

"Amelia would have mentioned it to me and Albus if she knew about Peter! And he was brought to the Ministry of Magic and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!"

"I don't believe he was taken to the DMLE, Valerie. I believe that Fudge came and took him away, as well as one of his cronies, someone who looked like he had Fae blood in him."

"Fae blood? The Fae are real?" Valerie gasped. She had been raised on the tales of the Fair Folk, and their whimsical ways. She had heard that the Sidhe could pass ages, literally, dancing, or that they could hold a human captive for millennia and the human wouldn't realize the fact. If the Fair Folk were alive…

"Yes, the Fair Folk are real, but the Seelie and Useelie courts have vanished from this circle of the world centuries ago, when Humans came into the world with Cold Iron. They can still be found beneath many hills in Scotland, Ireland and England. In fact, Hogwarts is built on the foundations of a Faerie Hall.

"But that's not what we are talking about! You distracted me, Valerie! The man with Fudge had white-blonde hair and silver grey eyes—"

"Lucius Malfoy," Valerie hissed. "A Death Eater. How did you come by this information, Magma?"

"The Werewolf. He accompanied the rat into the Ministry, and the owl also saw the exchange, and she gave me the information as well."

"I see. Well, now we've got to clean Sirius and Remus up. You can stay there or hunt, whatever you want. I'm going to fall on my face, and then go back to the easy job of being Lady McGonagall."

"Easy? You've complained about that job for years!"

"So? Debating with you is far more draining then leading a Wizarding Scottish Highlands Clan!" Valerie laughed slightly, rubbed her hand over her face, and walked up the stairs and out of the catacombs, while Maggie walked up to the edge of the precipice and flung herself off the cliff to hunt for her supper, probably an orca or something of that size. For some reason she liked fish.

"Valerie," Victor said as she walked up from the catacomb stairs. "You look like shit."

"I feel like it too. And now I've got to file that damned paperwork that can free Sirius from being an escaped convict. And speak with Amelia about Pettigrew, yell at Fudge, hit Malfoy, and a million other things to do." She ran her hand through her graying dark red hair, sighing.

"That's what your deputies are for, Val," Victor growled in her direction. Sometimes when Valerie heard her husband, she could see the old Mad-Eye Moody shining through his polished exterior. It gave her a jolt to hear the crusty old Auror's voice and demeanor coming from this worldly sophisticate. She smiled at him. She hadn't been posing marriage to him for ten years to not fall back in love with the man.

"Victor, there's something I have to tell you. It's about when we were children, just Sixth Years at Hogwarts. Remember those nights stolen on the Astronomy Tower?" Victor chuckled and came over to her, wrapping his arms about her waist and holding her close.

"Of course," he whispered in her ear. She could feel his hand flick and music came on; sweet soft music that took them back to the years they were schoolchildren. It was the Muggle American artist Glenn Miller, and the piece was Moonlight Serenade.

"Well, I—I became pregnant."

"You what?!" Victor yelped. The music stopped and he dropped his arms, falling back onto the couch. "What happened to the baby?"

"My sister adopted him after scolding me fiercely about propriety."

"Your sister… Agatha? Agatha McGonagall?"

" She married Jacob Longbottom, and re-named our son Frank."

"Frank Longbottom… My son? Our son? Dear Merlin, that psychopath will pay for that! Nobody drives _my _family insane and lives to tell the tale!" Victor snarled in a heated rage. There was a thumping, and Remus Lupin poked his head in.

"Are you alright, Mad-Eye?" he asked. He still hadn't gotten used to calling Victor by his new name.

"My name is Victor, Lupin, and I'll be fine, once I wrap my hands around Bellatrix LeStrange's throat and watch her strangle slowly!" Victor's face was red, and his eyes were narrow. Lupin nodded, eyes wide, and left quickly, probably not wanting to become a living target. When Victor was known as Moody, he had set his pet rubbish bins on any passerby, and those were just one of his defenses. Then, he became Victor, and the paranoia had faded drastically after becoming an Australian Wizarding bureaucrat and changing his features so that he wouldn't become recognizable at all anymore, save as Victor McPhaerson, the Australian High-Society-Wizard-Muggle-Relations Officer.

* * *

The being possessing the old Freikorps officer sat, contemplating his position. He was sick of the old Nazi, whom hadn't done anything their alliance had agreed on. Now Voldemort needed to get to the Stone and also to Potter. How could he do that without giving Dumbledore the opportunity to crow at him again? That rooster Animagus cry _hurt_, and besides, he lost his host!

Wait, that alchemist that Dumbledore had been working with seemed to be a promising man. In his mid-400's, the man was a genius in alchemy and would be a good addition to the Death Eater ranks. Now he just had to approach the old chemist… if that were possible.

_:Nagini!: _he hissed. The large serpent hissed in his direction, and she came at his call. She was his Familiar, and his best friend in these lonely years in exile from the Wizarding World. _:Find some way for me to contact Edward Kelly without removing my cover to the world.:_

_:Yes, master: _she replied. The exceptionally large and green magical Indian Cobra slithered out of the room, leaving a trail of flattened carpet fibers in her wake.

* * *

The paunchy old man sat in silence behind the self-proclaimed Lord. He sneered at the man, thinking that he was an amateur. He would wait until the correct time to come out of hiding and kill the megalomaniac then replace his Führer as the leader of the world, magical and non. This would be fun, but first he had to remove the potential threat in this ignoramus; then he could approach the Reichsfuhrer to go alongside him. He owed the Reichsfuhrer his life, having accepting a magical simulacrum and a secret second identity from him when the second Great War ended. Now he had to find out the next step that this idiot would do, then he could mess it up and fix the world for good. Jews and homosexuals were going to be something of the past, and so were political criminals. The Allied Forces that had fought against Deutchland were also going to get a rude awakening that the head of the Third Reich was still up and about. Not that Adolf Hitler was, but that himself and the Reichsfuhrer were. The two of them didn't need Hitler to rule the world, but he wouldn't mind Heinrich being there. And possibly a protégée to begin the SS and SA again. That would be good.

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, how was that?**_

_**Balrog: Frightening. Who's the creepy second Nazi?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Guess. Please.**_

_**Balrog: Hermann Göring. I'm sure of it. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Is it? Really? It could be some other Nazi that I made up.**_

_**CT**_


	28. Chapter 28

_**Celebwen Telcontar: This is the next chapter! **_

_**Balrog: That's all you have to say? Well, your disclaimers are getting shorter. Wait, that wasn't a disclaimer! Back, Lawyers! Back! I'll set you all on fire! Go on, you lawmongerers! She owns nothing, Himmler, Göring, and Heydrich belong to history, and the Potter saga belongs to JK Rowling! Understand?! That's a good lawyer bunch! I don't have to go for my whip yet. Or do I? Stay away if you know what's good for you, you lawyer! Back! Back, I say!**_

**_Celebwen Telcontar: (Looks sheepish and smiles at Balrog) Please review, people!_**

**_CT_**

* * *

The man blinked his way awake. He was _never_ this groggy, even after drinking.

"Ah, you're awake," a woman's voice called. It was in English, with a British accent.

_Schiesse!_ Had he been caught?! Was his grogginess due to English interrogators? Did he tell them anything important?! Wait, Hansi Brusche, his body-double, had taken that cyanide pill at the end of the war. Why was he here then?

"Professor Blitz?" a voice asked. Heinrich awoke totally. He was a Professor at a Scottish Magic school! He opened his eyes completely.

"_Ja?"_ he asked muzzily.

"Are you akright?" a different voice asked.

"Who cares if the Nazi is alright, Neville?!" a voice snarled.

"Hush!" a girl's voice said. "Don't call him a Nazi! And he's awake, Anthony!"

"So what? Let him listen! I'm leaving; I won't stay in the same room as a conscious Nazi."

"Both of you, be quiet!" a voice, Potter's, snapped. "How are you feeling, Professor?"

"_Ich fühle mich besser, Danke. Wie fühlen Sie sich?" _Heinrich asked. He looked around, and the fuzziness from his lack of glasses made it difficult to see.

"He just said that he feels better and asked you how you're feeling," Goldstein snapped. He apparently didn't like Heinrich at all.

"Alive, thanks to you. Thank you, Professor," Harry replied.

"_Gut. _Pass me my glasses, _bitte_?" Heinrich held out his hand in the general direction he thought they were. He was virtually blind without his glasses, and had been for years. As they wee put into his hands, he opened them and put them on.

Sitting up, Heinrich straightened the bedding, being annoyed at the disorderly state of his bed and nursing gown, and even more that he needed a hospital. His thoughts were still unaccountably muddled, probably due to the strange purple potion that made him fall asleep so quickly. _"Danke. _Thank you." He tried to stand, and found himself firm on his feet. Then the matron's door opened.

"Hans Blitz! You lay down this _instant_! You have acute magical exhaustion, and must _rest!!_ Messrs. Zabini, Weasley, Dursley, Goldstein, Longbottom, and Misses Granger and Bones, you are _dismissed!_ McGonagall, you need to go to Mr. Hagrid's hut for further treatment of your… wing. Severus, if you would please escort Mr. McGonagall to Hagrid's hut, I need to make sure our Potions Professor _stays put_! Now, off with your glasses and drink this!" The orderly pushed a vial of something pale blue into his hands, and, as muddled as he was, he drank it, followed by the now-familiar purple potion.

* * *

"Will Professor Blitz be alright?" Harry asked his private tutor as they moved across the lawn.

"I think so. Be wary, Horace, Hans Blitz is not all he seems."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure. Just keep an eye on him."

"Alright… I guess." The two of them came before the gamekeeper's door. Severus knocked loudly, and was answered by the giant man Horace's grandfather was so unimpressed by in the duel with Edward Kelly.

"Pr'fess'r Snape!" the man boomed. Harry looked up into a face like he would have imagined Beorn the Shifter from the Muggle author JRR Tolkien's _The Hobbit_. His face was shrouded in a thick tangle of black wiry curls that anything unsavory cold hide in. His hands we3re the size of dustbin lids, and his door was almost a full two stories high. Behind him was a proportionately tiny mastiff, one bred by the highborn in the past to flush boar from bushes.

"Hagrid, may we come in?"

"O' course, Pr'fess'r. An 'o's this?"

"My student, Horance McGonagall, Minerva's grandson. He is an Animagus and he has some problems with a wing."

"Seems kinda dodgy, carin' fer Min'rva's gran'kid," Hagrid said, stepping out fo the way.

"I promised his mother to protect him before she died. Now can we get to the matter at hand?" Severus said in a low growl.

"Oh. Well, this ain't just a visit, eh, Pr'fess'r?"

"No. Horace?" Severus looked at Horace, who stood in the room's center and morphed into his strangely Dark creature. The transformation augmented the pain, and he threw back his head with a hiss-yelp, inflating his hood. He tried to lick his injured left side and wing, yelping whenever he made contact. The pain was unbearable, and Horace couldn't see anything for the white sparkling mist of near-unconsciousness that swarmed his vision. Then, a powerful pain reliever settled into his injured side and wing, soothing the white-hot agony into a nagging itch. He settled to the side, folding his good wing beneath him and giving a light purr-moan of contentment.

"How do you feel?" Severus asked. Harry nodded, flattening his hood to his neck and yawning before curling up. He felt very tired; apparently he wasn't all that better from the troll attack. He re-arranged his injured wing, and stretched his forelegs before resting his head on them and closing his eyes. He went to sleep to the sound of Hagrid and Severus talking.

* * *

The raven soared in the open window, landing on the provided perch. Tied to its leg was an elegant scroll of a thick, gold-lettered parchment.

"_Lord Lucius Reinhardt Draconis Rosier Malfoy, _

"_It is my great pleasure to invite you to inspect and view a new containment and penitentiary facility located near Wiltshire, England. When you arrive, a five-course meal will be served to yourself and your associates. Enclosed is a specialized Portkey, which will transport yourself and your lovely wife Lady Narcissa Aquila Columba Black (McDubh) Malfoy at the hour of five in the eventide. Supper will be served at seven; also enclosed is a menu for which to choose your dishes for your courses. _

"_I expect to speak with you at the supper, _

"_Lord Herman William Greengrass"_

Lucius drew out a piece of paper, and discussed with his wife what he wanted for supper that evening.

"Darling, they have escargot served with fine caviar, as well as those lovely dark rye biscuits you enjoy with that Couronne Lochoise that you like so much for appetizers," he said.

"Oh, do they have that lovely poached salmon that I love?"

"Hmmm… It seems that they do have poached salmon, and they also have Japanese cattle steak, and the Japanese do pamper their cows!"

"Very good, Lucius! What of French Onion soup?

"With sourdough baguette and fresh melted guire cheese."

"Very good! And the salad choices include a German Saurkraut salad!"

"Delicious, darling! What do they have for dessert?"

"Baklava, for one, as well as some German cheese and fruit desert garnished with fresh fruit juice."

"It sounds delectable. Shall we go?"

"We are expected, 'Cissa. And the Portkey will leave at five in the evening."

"Good. That's settled. Dobby!" Narcissa said.

"Yes, Mistress? How can Dobby serve Mistress?"

"You can get our best robes ready and iron them. And if you're late, you can iron your hands."

"Yes, Mistress. Dobby will do." The house-elf popped away, presumably to take care of the preparations.

* * *

The man finished sending off the last of the letters, to a Wulf Arnaud Jacques Merovingian Malfoy, some noble or other living in Southern France. It was understandable that most Malfoys followed the same mold. They were as alike as a cookie cutter could make. This would be amusing, he was certain. Now he just had to have his house-elves get the suppers ready, and all would be well. Well, he first had to get the convicts he was now harboring back to cleanliness; Azkaban wasn't the greatest lover of sanitation, after all.

* * *

The older white-haired man smiled at the letter, indicated his choices, and began to get himself ready. He knew the Greengrass family; interesting people. They had their gifts of glib and glamour. Now he would need to impress this Greengrass now. If only others like him were around. He went upstairs to his lavoratory, and stared at his aged reflection a bit. The automobiele accident he had survived had given him some rather spectacular scars on his torso, but none on his perfect face. He scowled at his reflection.

"Filthy Jew!" he snarled at it, sweeping out of the room to get ready. He needed to look the part of an elegant Lord if he was to pull this off.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Anyone able to tell me who the white-haired man is?**_

_**Balrog: By his self-degrading epithet, a Nazi, I presume. And Mr. Greengrass I **_**know**_** is Hermann Göring. I just know it.**_

**_Celebwen Telcontar: Well, you'll be able to know by the end of the next chapter! It has an interesting conversation in it!_**

**_CT_**


	29. Chapter 29

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Hopefully you will all like this!**_

_**Balrog: Really? **_

__

**CT**

* * *

The dragoness sat in the catacombs, blocking the seaward entrance and exit that Harry had blasted there when she had first arrived. She yelped as something hard hit her in the middle, and then looked down. It was the creature again, trying to rip her flesh off. Well, that just wouldn't happen. Dragon flesh was so much more durable than anything else that it was often used by wizards for battle robes. The flesh of the dragon got progressively weaker as the time passed that the hide had been removed from the parent creature, however it was still very hard. And Maggie's skin was impervious to anything, including sharp headbuts and biting from a rather anxious werewolf.

Beside the werewolf was a thin, sad looking Black Ghost Dog, much like those that haunted gibbets and hangmen hills, a nasty creature that Maggie could see and that scared her witless. She had never seen a Black Ghost Dog before, but she knew that seeing one meant one of two things… her life was coming to a close or this was the place of a former execution site. As she had never seen the Black Ghost Dog before now, she could surmise that she was going to die. She would be dead soon, and she had a strong suspicion that it had to do with the werewolf. The lycanthrope could see the Black Ghost Dog as well, and so she believed that she and the werewolf would kill each other. Possibly he would injure one of her wings and they both would go tumbling off of the cliff. It was a strong possibility. Until then, though, she kept her claws latched tightly into the floor of the catacombs. This could just be a site of ancient man-contrived deaths.

The werewolf sniffed, then howled. It attacked a wall, where Maggie knew there was an infirmary-like room that held the Nazi Harry had attacked in his viper form.

"_What goes on there? What is that? you let me out, you mad people! I must report back to the Reichsfuhrer!!"_ the man cried in German, pounding on the door. Maggie snorted, and the Black Ghost Dog looked rather unimpressed with the entire thing then went to sleep, which Maggie figured was not a ghostly trait. Perhaps the dog was simply a dog, then, but she would not let her guard up.

* * *

The older man landed in the receiving room, looking around. This room didn't have the abhorrent Semite stink that the one in Wannsee had, Jews had owned that one once, but it was beautiful. It was as beautiful as the mansion in Wannsee had been, during the conference to deal with the Jewish storage problem.

"Uncle Wulf," Lucius began. Wulf looked at his nephew. The man looked good, Wulf could see that. Suddenly the door opened, and an older man stepped in. He was paunchy and heavy set, and he carried a swagger stick. It fell from the man's nerveless fingers as he saw Wulf.

"Reichsprotektor Heydrich?" the man whispered in shock. "You're alive?! But how?!"

"Reichstag President Göring. You are alive. That is a pleasant surprise," the older man said calmly, smiling at his old associate. The two of them began to speak for a time, sitting at the table and eating their appetizers while the other guests were doing the same. A man in black with lank, greasy black hair sat on Göring's other side, looking rather suspiciously at his food. He glared at the food, and then began eating with one hand, the other underneath the table.

The white haired man looked at Göring, who leaned close to him.

"Do not eat the food, General. It is laced with flunitrazepam," the Reichstag President said in low tones. Heydrich raised his eyes and mimed eating, speaking to Göring while seeming to bring his food to his mouth but setting it down after getting in a more animated conversation with Göring. He enjoyed speaking with a high-level Nazi again; it reminded him of old times. So much now he had to speak with his extended family, who were as dense as a brick. How they could look so Aryan and act like the lowest yet most arrogant Jew was beyond him.

"So, Severus," the heavy-lidded woman, Lucius' sister in law if he remembered correctly, began. "I hear that you begged the Dark Lord for the Potter bitch's life, did you? Did you _love_ her, ickle baby Sevvy?" The woman began to laugh, an insane sound that raised the hairs on Heydrich's neck. "The Dark Lord had begun to doubt your loyalty, Severus. Be grateful we are here now, or you would be dead. Being Dumbledore's dog as you are, it is disgraceful!" The woman's words were spat out like so much poison.

"_We shall interrogate him seperately, Hermann,"_ Heydrich said in German, looking pointedly at the supposed traitor. _"I know of and have access to a potion that will cause the truth to be told."_

"_Very good, Reinhard. Why the sudden want to dish out justice?"_

"_It may not be our job to do justice, however I am curious as to his presence here and why the others are so unimpressed with him; he seems no different than the others." _The two of them got back to mock-eating, Heydrich using slight of hand to hide the fact that he was not eating. He could have used wandless magic, however that would have been made suspicious by Göring.

* * *

Severus had gotten a letter earlier that day, and had arrived at the manor precicely at five, as the Portkey had been instructed to do. He was now seated beside the host, a wide-girthed German man, and a German-speaking Malfoy, Wulf if he remembered correctly, living in the Southern portion of France. He never noticed Wulf at Death Eater meetings before, but it was conceivable that he was there.

He performed some diagnostic charms on the food before him, and as he saw that it was laced with a Muggle sedative, he Vanished it in small 'bites' before he could be knocked unconscious. As he saw other Death Eaters falling into their plates, he stage yawned and lay his head on the table as if it was too heavy to hold up and waited for what was to come

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: How was that?**_

_**Balrog: Interesting.**_


	30. Chapter 30

_**Celebwen Telcontar: This should clear up some confusion, I think. **_

_**Balrog: About what?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Just read!**_

__

**CT**

* * *

Theodore Nott awoke tangled in a pile of bodies. McNair was under him, Evan Rosier's arm was wound about his neck, Goyle was on top of him, and he could taste foot fungus in his mouth. His eyes slowly took in his position, in a heap on a concrete floor. On either side of him were rickety, sad-looking multi-tiered compartments that looked like open cabinets, each one having a striped set of clothing on them. More of the Death Eaters awoke.

"What happened?" Evan Rosier asked with a yawn.

"No idea," Narcissa Malfoy replied, struggling to her feet. The other Death Eaters awoke and stood, exploring the cabinets. They were of a good depth that a man could lie in them, and Nott supposed that that was why they were there. They were probably bunks. There weren't any blankets, and the clothing that was there was threadbare and thin. Multiple toilets, without stalls, lined the far wall.

The iron door banged open.

"Alright," a fierce voice snarled. "Line up!"

"Why should we?!" Rudolphus Lestrange replied with a sneer.

"Schütze Jones!" the voice barked.

"Sir?" a new voice answered.

"Take that one to Dr. Smith. Tell him he has a new… patient." A brute of a man with nondescript features entered, grabbed Rudolphus by the scruff of the neck, and physically dragged him away to the protests of the others. The remaining Death Eaters lined up with no hassle, horror written on their faces.

* * *

"Are you a loyal Death Eater?" a voice asked.

"No," Severus answered. His tongue was working against him, causing him to say the absolute truth.

"Were you ever a loyal Death Eater?"

"No," he replied again. The inquisitors were silent for a few moments.

"Why did you become a Death Eater?"

"My father was an abusive man, and my mother, who loved me, wanted me to join the Dark Lord. I did so to please her."

"Why are you still a Death Eater?"

"To spy on the Dark Lord for Albus Dumbledore," Severus replied evenly. Inside, he was berating himself.

"Why do you spy for Dumbledore?" the inquisitor asked.

"For Lily," Severus replied. His heart was breaking inside.

"Lily who?"

"Lily Evans Potter. I loved her."

"I see. And her son?"

"I am his teacher."

"Good. Freidrich!" The inquisitor and a newcomer had a conversation in Slavic, and then Severus was taken from the room. He was brought into a bathroom, where he was left alone with towels, soap, shampoo, conditioner and good robes. He quickly set to making himself presentable, enjoying the sandalwood scent of the shampoo.

When he stepped out of the levorotary, he felt far better. On the left arm of the robes was a sewn red band, a white circle and a crooked, hooked cross inside of the white circle. Severus covered the swastika with a towel, not wanting to see himself wearing the sign of the Third Reich that destroyed Muggle Germany, after trying to remove it. But the swastika was sewn cleverly into the robes itself.

"Mr. Snape. I apologize for the rough welcoming we gave you," Lucius Malfoy's uncle said. He did not wear a swastika, but he wore the sigrunen of the SS.

"You're all Nazis. Why am I here?"

"You are here because you could be a great help to us, Mr. Snape. Please, help us and in turn allow us to help you."

"What do you need help with? Hitler cannot be resurrected, Himmler, Göring, Heydrich and the others are dead—" Severus stopped as Wulf Malfoy got a strange look on his face.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," he said simply. His blue eyes seemed to laugh at a private joke. "I am indeed alive, thank you very much."

"Oh Merlin… You… Wulf Malfoy, you're saying that you are Heydrich?"

"Indeed. Reichsprotektor Reinhard Heydrich, at your service."

"Are you serious?" Severus asked blandly. If that was the case, how many Nazis were left? How many Nazis were alive who had been said to be dead? Was Colonel Eichmann alive, biding his time somewhere? What of Hitler and his wife? Were they still around somewhere waiting to resurrect the Third Reich?

Severus felt his head swim. This wasn't what he expected. "And now you expect me to wear the swastika of the Third Reich."

"Not if you don't want to, no. We are trying to bring the world back together. America is a dominant world power, and we would like to see America sharing its wealth with the world. Undoubtedly, Clinton would be unimpressed with us; however, we need to bring the world together again. All this senseless killing, and for what? Nothing. Will you join us?"

"No."

"Alright." The man held the parchment that Severus had been transported with, then held his wand forward. _Obliviate!_

* * *

Draco Malfoy looked up as a massive shadow covered the Slytherin table. A large vulture descended next to him, whacking Crabbe in the head with its incredible wingspan. Draco tentatively untied the giant carrion bird's burden, cracking the strange death's head seal.

_Draconis Mars Lucius Jupiter Malfoy, _

_Please excuse the bluntness of this missive. __Lord Lucius Reinhardt Draconis Rosier Malfoy and Lady Narcissa Aquila Columba Black (McDubh) Malfoy have been tried and found guilty of war crimes and crimes against humanity and sentience. They are currently in the new Wiltshire resettlement and Penitentiary Facility. As I ma the last non-implicated blood relative you possess save those removed from the family, you shall be settled with myself. _

_Your uncle, Lord __Wulf Arnaud Jacques Merovingian Malfoy_

Draco looked up from it. He had to live with the crazy Blood-Traitor living in Southern France? It was rumored in his family that he had an iron heart, and that he had been aligned with Grindlewald, or worse, some crazy Muggle! He wouldn't stand for it! He would do something to get away! He had to!!

* * *

Dr. Ludwig von Adolfus plunged the clear liquid in the syringe until it squirted slightly, tapping the sides to get the air bubbles out. The large prisoner whimpered, then the air rippled around him and the room was bathed in an eerie red glow, emanating from the proboscis of a large caribou in the room's center, where the prisoner had just been. As the large arctic deer lashed out with antlers and hooves, Aldolfus yelled, flinging the syringe at the deer. By some miracle, the needle landed in its shoulder, and the reindeer bellowed, trying to remove it. Obviously, the deer lacked mental capacities of any normal human, for it pressed in the plunger before pulling out the needle. With a loud moan, it collapsed, passing out.

Ludwig stared at the deer, confused. Had his prisoner somehow turned into this creature? It obviously wasn't an ordinary caribou; caribou didn't have glowing red noses. The strange creature reminded him of Christmas at home; we wonder if the deer could levitate. He went to a cabinet, removing some measurement items, measuring everything from the unconscious deer. This would be an interesting research opportunity. Cod all the prisoners become animals, he wondered? He removed some hair to test, also removing a small section of hoof clippings and a piece of hide, then collected some blood and had two SA thugs take the prisoner-turned-deer back to the bunk room.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, how do you like that?**_

_**Balrog: Why is Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer there?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: He's Rudolphus Lestrange. Please review, people!**_

_**Balrog: I… think I understand. Maybe. **_


	31. Chapter 31

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, here's the next one. Hopefully it doesn't dissapoint. **_

_**Balrog: Everything disappoints in this story. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Do I need to find a glacier?**_

_**Balrog: No, thank you. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Please review, people!**_

__

**CT**

* * *

The bird sat on her perch, snoozing while the older woman was petting her, sighing every few minutes. She had just received word through the Floo that Severus, who she hired to teach her grandson, had been invited for a Death Eater fancy dinner, and had arrived on the porch to Hagrid's hut the next morning with a bleary mind and garbling something about Malfoys and some Muggle politician or other. Her draconian acquaintance, Magma, had gone to fetch him and bring him back. Hopefully with only a blurry mind, he would be able to recover the obviously Obliviated memories.

"How are you feeling, Prof—Min—Valerie?" a voice asked. A tired looking man in robes too big for him came in, his grey hair falling in lank waves about his lined and seamed face.

"Could be worse. I suppose. With a questionable character teaching Harry potions, Dumbledore doing who knows what, and that strange Nazi man in the catacombs, I don't know what to think."

"You have a Nazi in the catacombs?" Remus asked incredulously. "I knew about the dragon, but the _Nazi_? How'd one of _them_ get in here?!"

"He was apparently sent to assassinate Harry, and Harry bit him."

"Bit him?" Remus asked, obviously wanting clarification. "Is Harry a… a lycanthrope?"

"No, Remus, he's an Animagus. A… what was it? A deadly snake of some sort. I think an amphibious one as well…. Cottonmouth. That's it."

"Harry's a cottonmouth snake? Dear Merlin, don't let me get him angry! Cottonmouths can kill someone!"

"I know; the Nazi nearly died down there."

"Why is he still here?"

"Because I don't have the heart to push him off the cliff, and Magma hasn't gotten hungry enough to try human flesh."

"Well… I see. And this doesn't bother you?"

"Not anymore. I am married to Mad-Eye Moody, Remus. He was an auror for quite some time and he's seen some nasty carnage. He still brings home the odd criminal now and then to add to his collection."

"A collection of criminals?" Remus asked. He looked rather disgusted yet fascinated.

"Harry used to bring home all sorts of odd animals, and they needed meat. A thestral doesn't live on grass, you know."

"Where did you get this disregard for human life?" Remus asked, his voice undoubtedly sharper than he intended.

"Some of Vic—Alastor's memories. When I protested his feeding of wanted and dangerous criminals to Horace's pets, Victor—Alastor, I mean—put some memories in his pensive of the people in question, and I watched them. One of them was Joseph Pfizer, a prominent, Pureblood, Muggle-hating member of English society in the Victorian era. He gave a full confession to the murders of numerous Muggle prostitutes, and Harry's thestral killed him."

"I… I see." Remus looked down, and placed his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry about coming in like this. I needed someplace to stay, and this was the closest I could find. Actually, it was Maggie that found this place. Thanks, Miner—Valerie."

"You're welcome, Remus. Now I've got to take Hedwig here to the shore so she can fly to Harry." Valerie stood, taking Hedwig with her. "How do you feel, girl?" The former Professor stroked the owl's head, and then threw her out of a window, resuming her place on the couch.

"Mistress Valerie, Ma'am," a voice asked. A house-elf stood there.

"Aiaugh?" Valerie said. "What is it?"

"The mean crazy man is awake, Mistress Valerie."

"Alright. Remus, would you like to meet our guest?"

"Guest? Who?"

"You'll see." The two of them went down the hallway to the catacombs.

* * *

The elderly man sat on the couch, swirling his wine around in a glass. He had been chosen as the Muggle Studies Professor for a magical school; he had after all lived most of his life as a Muggle. It was strange that he was here, though, in his home country after his faked forced suicide. He never liked that jumped-up chancellor anyways. The old days were so much better… Hindenburg was alright, but Hitler… that was a thorough loon. How had that idiot become Chancellor in the first place, much less President?! It made no sense!

"_Herr _Romlavichski?" a voice asked. It was that young Third Year, the one who was promising on a broom.

"_Ja, Herr _Krum?" Romlavichski replied.

"How do airships steer? I understand that it is gas that keeps it flying, but how do they steer it?"

"A meathod of pushing air called 'rotars' or 'propellers'. Don't worry about the assignment, Viktor. I asked for three feet of parchment on Muggle aircraft of any type. Karkaroff won't kick you out of Durmstrung if you don't finish the intricacies of blimps."

"Uhhh… alright." The young lad left in a swirl of cold-acclimated robes. Ernest Romlavichski tossed the wine back into his throat. He heard that the Nazis were coming back; Heydrich wouldn't be that giddy if it wasn't true. He now had a new problem on his hands; how to get rid of the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei for good.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: what do you think?**_

_**Balrog: Of what? The unpronounceably-named Durmstrung teacher?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: And the entire thing.**_

_**Balrog: Just give up. Not enough people read this as is. If they did, more than two people every chapter would review.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog! **_

_**CT **_


	32. Chapter 32

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, here's a little reunion for the Nazis. **_

_**Balrog: A reunion for the Nazis? I'm headed north. I've heard there's a good director somewhere north of the Arctic circle where I can work for a good paycheck. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog, you nitwit!**_

_**Balrog: You bring in Balrog Slayers, then you go and bring in the Nazis?! What's next?!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Sorry. Please review people. **_

* * *

Heinrich Himmler, alias Hans Blitz, Hogwarts Potions Professor, stood on the ramparts. He loved standing here, letting the wind hold him up. It was a windy night, and he leaned into the wind. He knew that if he fell, the charm on the stones to keep students from flinging themselves to their deaths would also work on Squibs as well. He smiled. It was a glorious night; he was healed from the rather nasty bashing from the troll, young Potter, his soon-to-be protégé, was healing up nicely, and he was alive after all these years. Ninety-two years was an old time for a Muggle, surely, and he was glad that he was dead to the rest of the world. They would surely be peeking all about him for his secret of how he survived the tests of both the British and Time.

Suddenly, a shape resolved itself in the inky blackness of a cloudy night. Heinrich peered harder into the deep darkness, and came up with the shape of a wizard on a broom. The robes of the wizard were flapping wildly in the wind, and he was just about tumbling stick over bristles, not to mention head over heels, in the air.

Then, the shape was near him, and he was backing up. He was a Squib; how could he stop this careening broomstick rider who seemed intent on shish-kabobing him?! In deference to the lessons he gave the new SS members in WWII, he fell flat on his face. An out-of-control rider was nothing to joke about; even if it wasn't a Bouncing Betty or Heaven help him, one of the Ami's toys; a nuke.

The rider screamed in a panic.

"Get out of the way, you lousy pigdog!" The rider spoke fluent German. Well, that was both good and bad. Was he one of the new Germans who believed the Führer was the depth of all evil, or a Nazi supporter?

"Gods all curse you, idiot!" Heinrich retorted in fury. The man almost ran him over! Then he saw that the man was relatively middle-aged looking; probably in his fifties or so. If he was a Muggle. If he was a wizard, that could mean that he was somewhere between one and two centuries old. That certainly didn't narrow down the age gap any.

"God damnit," the man snarled. "Take me to Dumbledore. This is a matter of—Dear God in Heaven. Shit, god damnit, fuck, all Hell take it! What the Hell are you doing here, Himmler?! You were killed by the lousy Brits!"

"Who the Hell… Rommel. Erwin Rommel. How did you get here? By broom, obviously… but two of the SS were sent to make sure you took poison…" Heinrich muttered. This place was getting stranger by the hour! It wasn't every day your prize protégé turned into a strange creature, much less a long-dead near-traitor to the Reich turning up and declaring you dead when you knew _he_ was! What a mess! Now all he needed was for Göring or Hess to show up! "Well, Rommel. How in Odin's name did you survive?"

"I Pollyjuiced a guard, and Imperiused him." The explanation was almost more bizarre than Rommel being alive in the first place. "What are you doing here and how did you survive?"

"I had my brother Pollyjuice a Jew. Idiot Brits."

"You're living in Britian now, Himmler."

"It's _Herr_ _Reichsfurher_, to you, Rommel." The former General of the German army rolled his eyes. The two of them weren't getting anywhere.

"Wait… you're the one resurrecting the NSDAP, aren't you?!" Rommel accused. Heinrich's eyebrows flew skywards.

"Ressurecting the Nazi Party?! Who could...? What idiot tried to… unless its one of ours. It very well could be. Come in, _Herr __Generalfeldmarschall_. Come in out of the cold. We'll get you set up somewhere."

"If the Reich is taking over Hogwarts, then I want no part of it. I'll go my own way, Himmler." The _Generalfeldmarschall _remounted the broom, and flew off into the night, giving Heinrich the finger as he flew.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, how was that? A simple hello for a couple of old comrades. **_

_**Balrog: Really? Right. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, please review, people!**_

_**CT**_


	33. Chapter 33

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, I hope you all enjoy this!**_

_**Balrog: Where are the dancing horses?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: We don't have any Lipizzaner horses here. Where did you get that idea, by the way?**_

_**Balrog: Patton saved the Lipizzaner breed. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I see. Please review, people!**_

__

**CT**

* * *

The creature lifted its head, and was rewarded with a drenching of slobber from an overenthusiastic boarhound.

"'Arry, 'ow are yeh?" a booming voice asked. The strange beast looked up at the giant of a man, ears pricked to catch any stray sounds. He waved his tail a couple of times, and rustled his wings, checking for any lasting damage.

"Hey, Harry," a new voice called. Harry looked over to see Ron, his form swathed in heat waves. Harry made a grating purr in his throat, coming out somewhat like a hissing growl. Harry's tongue darted out, catching tastes and scents that said that Ron had just been in the mid-troposphere, flying. "Whoa, your tongue is forked!"

"You just noticed that, Weasley?" a thickly accented voice said. Harry's head whipped around, to find Professor Blitz in his customary black robes, the lapels folded down. Harry tasted the air; Blitz smelled as though he was nervous and angry at something.

"'Arry, Pr'fess'r Blitz 'as been 'ere since 'e got outta th' 'ospital wing not two days past," Hagrid explained.

"Two days?!" Harry yelped, changing back into his human form.

"Ye've been out a week, 'Arry."

"I see. Why a week?"

"Th' wing 'ad a stubborn infection innit. Wouldna go away, an' ye kept 'avin' loud dreams o' talks an' such."

"Professor?" Harry asked, turning to Blitz.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"My last name is McGonagall, Professor," Harry said in a no-nonsense kind of voice.

"Alright then, if you insist, Mr. McGonagall. I would like to speak to you about a matter of some urgency."

"Go ahead."

"I know that you do not have an easy task ahead of you. I could teach you to survive that task with flying colors, so to speak. Do you agree?"

"What task?"

"A Seer named you the person to bring down Voldemort, and as Seers, when they See things, actually change the universe to fit that Vision, and you are incredibly magically powerful, you will be the one."

"But You Know Who's already dead; he was killed by Harry Potter, and you can't be saying that Harry here is really Harry Potter," Ron protested.

"I am. Harry Potter was placed with the McPhaersons, who Mrs. McPhaerson is the McGonagall Clan Chief. And moreover, Voldemort is alive. He came to speak with me before I became your Potions Professor. So, Mr. Pot-McGonagall, how would you like to do this?"

"You're Harry Potter? You're really the _Harry Potter_?!" Ron blurted out incredulously. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Apparently that's my original name, Ron." Harry fell back onto the pillows, feeling weak. His back still hurt a bit, probably from his injured wing. A meaty hand from the half-giant stopped Ron from inquiring further.

"Weasley," Professor Blitz's voice broke in. "Let Mr. McGonagall get some rest. McGonagall?"

"Yes, sir. I think that it would be wise of me to accept that aid," Harry said, formulating his reply before answering, as his grandmother had taught him.

"Very good. In two weeks then we shall meet before the tapestry of the troll ballet. Agreed?" Blitz stood, smoothing down his robes. He smiled gently. "Get well, Mr. McGonagall."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied, and the Professor left the hut. Harry transformed back into his odd Dark creature, and lay his head down on the pillow he was provided with.

"Hey, mate, you can't go to sleep now!" Ron protested. "You just got up!" Harry raised his head, yawned hugely, and hissed at Ron, and then lay its head back down and went to sleep. Hagrid must have ushered Ron out, because all Harry heard was a door opening and closing and he felt a blanket placed over him.

* * *

The American wizard stared at the fox patronus in the room.

"General," it said in thickly accented English, "Somehow, Himmler, Göring, and Heydrich survived. They are trying to resurrect the Third Reich with Hogwarts at the center. I am going to fight against the Nazis. Will you fight with me, General?" The silvery animal leapt into the air, twisted once around, and vanished. The former war hero sat back. Ernst Rommel, the Desert Fox, had decided to contact him about the new resurrected Nazi party in England. Should he contact Eisenhower or Truman about this new menace?

Without warning, a silvery mist appeared in the room, blown in by the windows. It was like a cloud, and resolved itself into a mountain, a lake at the North side with a lodge near the lake. Truman, then. The general sat back, eyebrows raised. If former President Truman had decided to contact him via Patronus, then it was dire indeed. Patroni were faster than snail mail, and he did not have a computer and had removed his phone line years ago. A tiny boat in the middle of the Patronus lake shifted as a proportionately small human stood up in it, cupping his hands about his mouth.

"George, Ike just called," the fisherman said in Truman's voice. "The Nazis are reforming in England. We'll go help the Fox and the Brits. Meet me at the observatory!" The mountain began to swell, and it blasted open from the North flank, obliterating the peaceful lake and lodge. With the explosion the entire vision dissipated.

"What by God was that?!" the general's maid asked, looking in.

"That, Sarah, was Harry Truman's patronus. For years after his supposed "death", he lived at Spirit Lake on Mount St. Helens. He Apparated out of his fishing boat during the eruption. He's lucky to be alive."

"Harry S. Truman is that crotchety old man at Mt. St. Helens?!" Sarah gasped.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"I suppose. Where are you headed, General Patton?"

"England. _Recordus. Rommel, thank you for the information. I'll be there. Expecto Patronum!"_ Patton cried, his wand forming a Roman legionary on horseback. The soldier rode off at high speed, racing through the wall. He performed the spell twice more, then Apparated off to Johnston Observatory in Washington State to meet former presidents Truman and Eisenhower, whom was a Squib, and what remained of the magical divisions of the Allied Forces in World War Two. Getting back in the saddle at almost a hundred years old was never comfortable.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: What do you think of this?**_

_**Balrog: Great. Now the Allies are getting in! This is wonderful! Now all we need is a nuke… **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog, you are not to bomb anyone here. Please review, people!**_

_**CT**_


	34. Chapter 34

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Erm... I made a mistake and switched the Bush wives by accident. I've gone back and fixed the error. Thanks for reviewing, people! **_

_**Balrog: I'm eagerly awaiting the next chapter you put out. Hopefully it won't have any errors.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog! Please review, those who have not reviewed! And to those who have reviewed, well, thanks! **_

__

**CT**

* * *

Magma floated lower, flapping her gargantuan wings as she approached Hogsmeade. A flock of migrating geese became a toasted evening snack, the uncooked feathers and bones no doubt an invitation for indigestion later. The acids and bacteria in her stomach would digest the geese, producing hydrogen as a byproduct. When the hydrogen was pumped into her specialized flight bladders, it would be stored there until she needed to breathe fire. When she pushed the hydrogen out of her flight pouches and through her mouth, the sulfuric saliva ignited the gas, allowing her to breathe fire.

Maggie circled down, using a thermal to glide. She saw the massive half-giant of a man standing at the mouth of his nest, tending the immense squash he had planted there. Maggie pulled air into her lungs.

"Oy! You!" she roared, getting his attention. She landed, her arrowhead-shaped tail felling a tree in the forest by accident.

"My—Merlin, ain't ye a beaut'!"

"Kindly remember that I am _not_ a brute."

"No, o' course not! But yer a beauty, an' no mistake!"

"Thank you for the clarification. I am looking for a Severus Tobias Snape."

"Pr'fess'r Snape's up at th' castle. Wha's yer name, beautiful?"

"Magma. Now I must—" She cut off as the incredibly large man found an itchy spot behind her crest. "Find yourself a mate!" Magma snapped. "You are a Human-Giant hybrid, I am a dragon, and I am _not_ your mate!" With that, Magma stalked up the hill, her talons having left huge gouges in the earth, and her tail having leveled a good number of trees in her irritation in place of roasting the annoying man. She heard his huff of disagreement as he was left in the night, but she ignored it. He should know the mating rituals of dragons! He was, after all, the resident large-dangerous-animal freak about Hogwarts.

Suddenly, a strange scent caught her nose. She turned and looked in the direction of the small hut.

"Alright," she said, her voice as icy as a dragon could make it. "What are you doing with a Norwegian Ridgeback egg in your nest?" The overlarge man began to stutter, and Magma thought about how many toothpicks could be made from the massive bones.

* * *

The old man walked up the steep ridge, its façade having been scraped clean by flying white-hot debris in May of 1980, just over eleven years past. He crested the peak, and took in the massive scarring in the mountainside, housing a growing bubble of lava and rock in the center. Up at the top was an old man in a tourists outfit, shaking.

"I still remember that morning, George," Harry Truman said softly. "I was fishing. Next thing I know, I catch a bit of movement. The mountain was coming apart. I was lucky to have Apparated away when I did."

"I'm glad you did, Mr. President," Patton said, moving the cigar he smoked to the other side of his mouth. "Where's Ike?"

"Dunno. He didn't show."

"Good evening, gentlemen. I hope I am not too late," a voice greeted them. The two old politicians turned to see Ike Eisenhower and Ernst Rommel surmounting the ridge. "Both of you get here alright?"

"Yes," Truman said.

"Why here?" Rommel asked with a very thick accent.

"We won't be traced here, and I know the layout of the place," Truman replied. "I hope you don't mind, but I decided to change the location and invite another guest." As the former President and crotchety old cabin owner stopped talking, he grabbed his fellow's arms, telling Eisenhower to grab onto his shirt. He then Apparated them to somewhere Patton had never seen before, but the others obviously had.

"Camp David?" Eisenhower asked as a thumping filled the air.

"What the Hell?!" Patton barked.

"_This is ridiculous!"_ Rommel cried in German.

"Why is _he_ here?!" Eisenhower demanded. The chopper leveled out and a handful of Secret Service men poured out, followed by George H. W. and Barbara Bush.

"Glad you could make it, Mr. President," Truman said evenly.

"Good. You're all here. Let's get inside the cabin." The current President of the United States led the way into a lush cabin, sitting down at a table. The others took seats, the Secret Service men looking like wax upholstery figurines, which was probably how they were supposed to look. "You tell me that the Nazis are coming back into power, President Truman?"

"That's right, President Bush," Truman replied, obviously enjoying the banter.

"Let's dispense with the formalities," Patton growled. "We'll never get anything done." Patton found himself at the receiving end of a death glare with a pistol attached. Barbara Bush placed a gentling hand on the serviceman's arm, settling him down.

"Well," Bush began, sounding overly jovial, "Let's get this done. How did they come into power, President Truman?"

"They approached a magical school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and one of their leaders is now a teacher there," Rommel summed up. Bush snorted. He, as had all Presidents, had been told of the existence of magic in the world.

"How did he survive the war?"

"We still have yet to figure that out, Mr. President," Eisenhower said. "Unless he's either a Wizard himself or a Squib, he couldn't have survived the war."

"This just gets better and better," Patton drawled. "The surviving members of the Nazis are Göring, Himmler and Heydrich."

"You're not serious," Bush said, placing his head in his hands. This was obviously a shock to the President. "My God. Leaders of the Third Reich, two known suicides and a known assassination surviving and corrupting England."

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Is it to your standards, Balrog?**_

_**Balrog: I suppose. Not too many mistakes. Why would Truman Apparate them all halfway across the country from Mt. St. Helens to Camp David? And why would we want to see an allied forces version of the Wansee conference? **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Please bear with me here, Balrog! Please review, people!**_

_**CT**_


	35. Chapter 35

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, here's the new chapter! Thanks to Fibinaci and Airlady for catching my big mistake in the previous chapter! It's already been fixed!**_

_**Balrog: And why are you continuing this story?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: It's the most popular of my stories that I've ever written! Besides, I like the idea behind it! Please review, people!**_

__

**CT**

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was having problems. He was always having problems nowadays, but a man in outdated US military fatigues standing before his desk wasn't the best thing he had seen in a while.

"How may I help you… General?" Albus thought he had the rank right. The man had a wand as well as his Muggle firearms, which assured Albus that this man was a Wizard.

"By removing and destroying your Potions teacher, Headmaster," the man growled out.

"Why would I do that, General…?"

"Reed. Charles Reed. I insist because your teacher is a security risk."

"Would you be able to take his place?"

"No, Headmaster. I have duties in the states and to my family."

"I see. Well, I don't have another Professor lined up to teach Potions. Until you give me a good reason to fire him, I can't do that."

"The man is Heinrich Himmler, the leader of the SS and a Nazi."

"A what? I'm afraid that I am unfamiliar with that term, my boy."

"A member of the National Socialist German Workers Party? The NSDAP?" Reed tried to clarify. Albus was still clueless. The door opened, and a man came in. Tall and fair faced with white hair and thick glasses, the black robes fitted him perfectly. He was almost a sickly thinness, with a roundish face with almost no chin. Reed's reaction was immediate. He snapped his Muggle firearm out, and had it pointed directly at Professor Blitz.

"Hans!" Albus cried out.

"Er… Albus?" Blitz asked. Behind Blitz, Harry McGonagall stood, then when he saw Reed, he turned into a strange black horse, his mane and tail made of fire and his eyes a gleaming magmatic scarlet-orange. His hooves, glowing a bright red, began to make the floor smoke. The Hellhorse flew into action, knocking the general down. The Muggle firearm went off, shattering a window. Fawkes burst into flames, poking his head up from a pile of ashes moments later. The Hellhorse had a bullet hole in its left foreleg, and Blitz was standing in front of the beast. "Do not fire, Ami." Blitz had a steely tone in his voice, a tone that almost froze the air about him.

"Himmler. What a surprise. General Patton told me that I could find you here."

"So you are with the American horse unit?"

"If you mean the one that saved the Lipizzaner mares you and your _kind_ put in danger, then yes. We did. But more importantly, we saved Europe from your clutches." The Hellhorse snorted and moved its uninjured legs restlessly.

"Please excuse me, Headmaster. I have to get Mr. McGonagall down to Hagrid's hut again, since he has been re-injured.

"Are you implying that that _thing_ is a student?" Reed hissed in Blitz's direction.

"Boys! Boys!" Albus called, separating the two with a gleaming barrier. The creature, known now to be Horace McGonagall, growled malevolently, as best as a horse could, at the General, before half-staggering, half-limping out of the room, Blitz on his trail. The shimmering barrier came down.

"That was Heinrich Himmler, Professor Dumbledore," Reed snarled.

* * *

Former Potions professor Severus Snape stood on the grounds, about to climb onto Maggie's back when the doors opened, and Harry stepped out, in his Hellhorse form. A hole in his foreleg was bleeding, and he was badly limping. Maggie rolled her eyes.

"Must you always get in trouble, Horace?" she asked. The Hellhorse snorted in response. "Alright, come on." Maggie gripped Horace about the girth, holding him tightly. Severus clambered onto Maggie's back, and the great Dragoness took off with a lurching shove of her hind legs.

"Oy!" Hagrid cried. "Arenae ye commin back down 'ere tae get some rest, Lady?"

"Find your own mate, Giant Hybrid," Maggie snarled back with a jet of fire. Harry the Hellhorse neighed a couple times, and Maggie swooped down, scooping Professor Blitz up with her nose and dumping him, backwards, on her back in front of Severus. His thick glasses just about fell off of his nose, and his pale complexion was even lighter, making him look like a badly-dyed mannequin. He struggled to face forwards, then gripped Maggie's stiff, short bristle-like mane on her spine. He muttered in German, some prayer, Severus thought, but not one Severus recognized.

Slowly, the four of them made their way to Australia, Maggie obviously having ignored Dumbledore's instructions to keep Harry at Hogwarts.

"Don't worry, Severus," Maggie called back. "We won't be seen. I fly a bit faster than Victor does in his dinosaur form, and so we should be there in a couple days, if not a day or so. Hang on, I'm going fishing!" The great Dragoness then dived, leaning her head down past Harry and scooping up a small pod of dolphins who had practically swum right into her mouth. Harry neighed, and Maggie laughed. "I won't do that again, Harry. Sorry I startled you there. Do you want me to land so you can get on my back as a human?" The Hellhorse neighed a few times, and Maggie angled for a rock jutting out of the sea. She set Harry down, then landed herself a few feet away, and the Hogwarts student morphed and shifted until in the Hellhorse's place was a powerful Eastern Dragon. Its mane was a glimmering sapphire-emerald, and its teeth were huge and sharp. It held its left foreleg above the ground, and lifted off, swimming through the air faster than Maggie could.

"Maggie, mind if I fly like this?" he called back. Maggie snorted in amusement, then shook her head.

"Just follow the Southern Cross until we get there. Don't worry, you'll get there before me. Eastern dragons are faster than Western ones. Probably has something to do with their shapes."

"Alright. Race you!" The two dragons arrowed off, and were soon arriving in Melbourne, and settling into their catacomb cavern.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: How was that?**_

_**Balrog: What, exactly, does a Hellhorse look like? **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, a Hellhorse is the masculine version of the Nightmare. It looks generally like an equine form of a Balrog.**_

_**Balrog: (Sarcastically) Funny. Ha. Ha. I'm laughing my fire off. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: No, really! Well, please review, people!**_

_**CT**_


	36. Chapter 36

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, here's a bit of a longer chapter for all of you. I hope you all like it!**_

_**Balrog: Is it disturbing?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, it doesn't have Gandalf or Glorfindel in it, so you're safe and sound, Balrog.**_

_**Balrog: (Sarcastically) Gee, that makes me feel real safe, Celebwen.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Please review, people!**_

__

**CT**

* * *

"Alright," Maggie sighed. "I have a rather desperate errand that I need to run. Harry, can you stay here with Severus and the Reichsfürher-SS turned Potions Teacher?"

"_**What?!"**_ Severus barked. "I knew you were dangerous… But Heinrich Himmler!! This is an outrage!!" Severus stalked towards the former Reichsfürher-SS, only to be stopped by Maggie's tail across his path.

"Perhaps I'd best not go?" the dragoness asked Harry.

"Don't worry, Maggie. I'll keep them apart." The Eastern Dragon held Severus in one claw, and used his tail to corral Professor Blitz. "Go on, Maggie, we'll be fine."

"Alright, I believe you. But you must be able to fly back as soon as you are well. Change into your Eastern Dragon form when you are well, and then fly north, following the tail of Ursa Minor. You'll come to a hot land of forests and greenery and then a land of ice and cold, year-round. Find the Invisible Crater, and then go directly west, until you find yourself over a land of old peat bogs and cold seas. Head southwest after that, until you reach Scotland and the school. Don't forget to take your Potions professor with you. What in the Great Star Dragon's Name was I thinking taking you back here in the middle of a school year?! Anyways, be careful, my little kit!" The magenta and gold dragoness flung herself off of the ledge, snapping open her wings at the last moment to exchange altitude for speed and flew off.

"Master Horace Sir!" a voice cried. A House Elf popped into the catacombs, took one look at the restrained Professors, and popped out, returning with manacles. "Aiaugh, where did you get those?"

"Aiaugh got them from Master Victor's stone room, and from Master Horace's forest dungeon, Master Horace sir!"

"Alright…" the injured Eastern Dragon said quietly. "Put the manacles down. Severus, can I trust you not to attack and kill Professor Blitz? Professor Blitz, can I trust you not to attack and kill Severus? This is my home, both of you, and I need you two to respect it."

"I'll leave him alone," Blitz said firmly.

"Severus?" Harry prompted.

"He's a filthy Nazi," Snape growled. "But we'll have a truce here. Only here, though, SS man. Understand?" Blitz nodded, and Harry released both of them. Severus rearranged his robes, pulling the tear in his left sleeve higher onto his shoulder, and then backed up the stairwell, obviously not trusting Blitz.

"Severus," Harry said, turning back into his human form.

"Are you alright, Mr. McGonagall?" Blitz asked.

"I'll be fine with a pain relieving potion and a wound healing charm."

"Severus Snape! What _have _you done to my grandson?!" a voice snapped. All three humans looked at the fuming Valerie McGonagall McPhaerson, storming down the stairs. "Horace, what happened to you?"

"Reed happened," Blitz answered disdainfully. He sounded rather annoyed.

"Who are you and who is Reed?" Valerie asked, her eyes boring into Blitz's.

"I am Hans Blitz—"

"He is Heinrich Himmler, SS Reichsfurher," Severus put in with an annoyed snarl. Valerie gasped.

"A low-ranked Nazi is one thing. Himmler on the other hand… Out! Out of my house this instant!" She grabbed Blitz by the arm and led him to the ledge. Harry wondered why his grandmother was able to bring the man to the edge of the catacombs, but then he realized that the Potions Teacher was rather out of shape and not athletic, while his grandmother rode a Muggle bicycle every morning, and ran on a magical version of a treadmill.

"Grandmother!" Harry cried. "He hasn't harmed me. I would say to let him stay here for a bit!"

"No, Horace. He is going, and that is final. I won't throw him off the ledge; however your menagerie in Germany is getting rather hungry."

"You're going to feed my potions professor to the basilisk?" Harry squeaked.

"Yes. Now come upstairs, dear. We need to see to that arm of yours."

* * *

Maggie barreled down out of the sky, landing in a clearing. She knew that she couldn't take the egg with her, but had to let it hatch here; if she let it get too cold, then it could die. Already she believed that the kit would be female due to the low temperatures in the half-giant's hut. She forced her way through the trees, a unicorn dodging around her. A strange man with a staff instead of a wand was pursuing the elusive mare, and Magma tried to flame him. It was better to be safe than sorry, especially in the Dark Forest, where multiple Dark things lived. The man dodged though, and performed a complex staff movement which sent him disintegrating into a cloud of sulfuric-scented black mist with a _pop_ of displaced air. The mist quickly dissipated, and Maggie snorted her irritation.

_Thank you, Lady Dragon,_ the unicorn called in a bell-like whiney.

_You are welcome, Queen of Light,_ Maggie replied, using the honorific specially formatted for unicorns. The unicorn bowed, reared, jumped a couple times on her hind legs, and ran off into the forest, leaving Maggie to her quest.

Suddenly, she reared up. The exit to the forest wasn't too far away, and she launched herself into the air to get there quickly.

"Lady! Ye've ret'rned!" the gigantic man bellowed. He ran forward as if to hug her.

"Back away, you ignoramus!" she snarled. "Give me the egg." She clawed her feet over the land, digging up several boulders and arranging them in a cairn shape, the thick snow falling off as she flamed the cairn, getting it orange-hot. The man entered the hut and gave her the egg. He was using potholders with it, and the egg looked like it was about to slip. She took the egg from him, setting it gently in the center of the cairn, then flamed the rocks, heating them even more. "She would have died in your care, you moron!" Maggie hissed in fury. She took out her rage on the stones, heating them up to white hot. The baby must be extremely comfortable now. One of Maggie's own first memories was of the heat of the nest.

Dragon males did not stay with the females besides to mate, but Maggie's father had stayed with her mother for some time. He didn't want competition in the area, so he abandoned the nest and distracted her mother in the middle of winter. The nest cooled, and Maggie hatched as a female, and the lucky one. She was the only dragonet alive in her clutch.

"Can Ah watch?" the massive human asked. Maggie looked up with a disdainful sneer.

"You must be mad. I would not let you watch an infant flobberworm, much less a dragon egg." Maggie gave the rocks more heat, and one of the stones cracked. The inside was viscous and gluey, looking like the inside of a jelly bean. The lawn around the white-hot cairn was dry and brown, the grass smoking. "If you want to help, keep the lawn about the cairn moist so that it does not catch fire," Maggie instructed. The oversized brute quickly went to the lake and got a huge barrel full of water and began spraying it about the lawn. Some of it landed on the rocks, and the shock of the cold water and the hot fire was too much. They cracked open, revealing their slightly-melted innards.

Suddenly, the egg cracked down the center. Maggie growled to the baby in the draconic language, clearing away rocks and holding the egg as it shuddered in her grasp. The infant dragon sneezed, sending egg shells flying. One of them hit a tree, burrowing its way inside the bark due to the velocity.

"Awww…" the giant moaned, looking like someone had just given him his greatest wish. "E's such a cute fella! I think I'll call 'im Norbert!"

"She is female, you dolt, and her name will _not _be Norbert or any other Human names. Her name is Sid."

"Sid, eh?" the man said quietly. "Kinda a common name, ain't it?"

"Common? No. Her full name is Obsidian. I will be staying here to watch over her."

* * *

Rabastan LeStrange leapt away from the bare wall as the door opened and his brother in Animagus form was thrown in. Bellatrix screamed out, and rushed to the downed reindeer's side. He tried to stand, and snorted a couple times. Then Rabastan morphed into his non-mutated reindeer form.

_What did they do to you? _Rabastan asked his brother.

_I changed for defense, and they injected me with something. I can't change back._ The door opened, and a man rushed in. He was rather fat, and had thick dark hair and a very hairy moustache. He grabbed Rabastan by the antlers, and hauled him out of the room. _Rab! Try to escape! _Rudolphus cried, rearing. He leapt, and, to the Death Eater's shock, he didn't come down. He was standing on the air as if he was on solid stone. Rabastan bellowed, and tried to turn back, but couldn't.

"You are coming with me, _freak_," the man chuckled. Rabastan bellowed again, lashing out with his hooves and antlers. The man was unbelievably quick, and dodged all the attempts at bodily harm. He then threw a silver bridle over Rabastan's head, forcing the sharp bit into his mouth. A thick lethargy settled over the Death Eater, and he felt himself being dragged off someplace. Then, something invaded his shoulder, and he blacked out.

* * *

"Alright," a voice cried. The remaining Death Eaters scrambled to stand and be presentable. "You will be taken one at a time to the bathing room. There you will be given a bath. Resist, and you will not like the consequenses!" The intercom shut off with a despairing crackle, and the door opened. A group of people came in, then dragged Evan Rosier out. He went with them; he personally liked having three meals a day and even if they were semi-liquid slop, at least they were somewhat filling.

He was stripped down, and forced to stand for hours with his hands up, as his captors photographed every inch of him. Then they forced him into a tub filled with steaming water. As soon as he was in the water he began struggling; he was surprised that the water was not boiling. It was excruciatingly hot, and he felt his pores opening in reaction to the hot water.

After a good half hour of the hot water treatment, he was yanked from the tub and placed on an examination table. His body was protesting the sudden change in temperature, and he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his leg. The doctors were using tweezers to pluck every hair from his body, slowly and carefully so that the roots would come out with the hair. After one leg was finished being plucked, he was shoved into the water again. The process of soaking and plucking continued until he was completely hairless all over, and then he was forced to stand near the white wall while he was photographed again.

When the plucking and photography was done, they dragged him to a new chamber. A man stood there with a gleeful look on his face. He had a myriad of syringes and knives with him, and the guards chuckled as they lashed him to the table so that he couldn't move. Then, the left, and Evan was left at the "mercy" of the "doctor" as the steel door closed with a resounding bang.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, how was that?**_

_**Balrog: Kind of disturbing, at least with the Nazis and the experiments. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, I want to make this realistic to the Nazis and whatnot. Please review, people!**_

_**CT**_


	37. Chapter 37

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Here's a new chapter; number 37. Dear Goddess… thirty-seven chapters?! That's a lot… Oh, well. **_

_**Balrog: What's going to happen now?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, you'll just have to see! No one you recognize is mine; they are either JK Rowlings or they belong to History. **_

_**Please reiview, people!**_

_**CT**_

* * *

Harry stared at the surf beating the rocks. His grandfather had taken his potions professor away not too long ago, maybe a couple hours. How could anyone, especially that old, severely near-sighted Squib, survive even ten minutes in the Black Forest, which swarmed with dangerous magical beasts, much less two hours? Days? Weeks? It was impossible. Professor Blitz would be dead, and probably was sliding down the throat of a basilisk as he mused. Maggie, Snape and Blitz had all told him, in no uncertain terms, not to leave until he was fully healed. Well, he was healed now.

"Horace," a voice called.

"Grandfather?" he replied, turning from the plate glass window.

"Horace, he was a war criminal," Victor said. "We don't let war criminals survive. A living criminal can give his training to an innocent person, and turn them into a monster. It's for the best."

"For the best? He's a teacher. Besides, he's friendly."

"Horace, come with me." The older man took his grandson to his private history tutor. "Jacob, please give my son an in-depth history lesson about the German Muggle Holocaust, and Himmler in particular."

"Gods above… He needs a close-up history of _those_ monsters?!"

"Yes," Victor said softly. He closed the door behind him.

"Alright, Horace. Take a seat, please. Here." Jacob handed Horace a rather large rubbish bin with a thick liner. "It has a vanishing charm on the bag to remove any contents." He passed a glass of water and a stack of napkins to the boy. "Let's start with the end of WWI. It was known as the War to End All Wars, and was… it wasn't a good war. Many people died outright from the violence, and many more were crippled and died from bad sanitation, blood loss, gasses, and illness. In the trenches, the 1918 pandemic of avian influenza was rampant. But most of all was the Germans. They were something out of a nightmare. They would fight when they should have surrendered, they would kill when they could have simply captured. They were ruthless, and evil.

"Then the treaty at Versailles was written. The treaty made peace with the Allied Forces and the Axis Forces. The end of the war came and went, and peace abounded.

"A clause in the Treaty said that the German army could be no larger than 100,000 people strong. Many out-of-work soldiers created illegal groups called Freikorps. A Corporal in the German Army named Adolf Hitler joined them, and within a few years, he was in politicks. He found several right-hand men, and his most right-hand man was Heinrich Himmler. Himmler was an evil man. He was a chicken farmer for a while, and then he became a personal friend of Hitler's. He was tasked to find out about the ancient Germans, and to discover a way to resurrect them. Himmler in turn used the concentration camp "doctors" to find a way to make the old Germanic blood viable again, but he didn't find it. All in all, Hitler and Himmler killed over eighteen million people." Jacob gave Horace a book. "Read this, and write an essay on it. I want it on one four-meter-long piece of parchment. Pay specific attention to Himmler, Göring and Heydrich." The tutor looked rather pale by then, and walked out of the room.

Horace wasn't too affected by the long lecture though. Being the grandson of Victor McPhaerson wasn't for the faint of heart. He was more daunted by the length of the essay he had to write. Four meters?! That was longer than half of his so-far given Hogwarts assignments put together! And what was that blasted waist-basket for? Bits of spare parchment that he messed up on? Did his tutor have so little faith in him? And the napkins and water… why were those here? Well, he'd have to ask later. He decided to get to work; his grandmother was very strict on homework and he knew that he wouldn't be allowed outside until the essay was done to the tutor's ideas of perfection.

Now he just had to wait until his arm healed to go back to school… which wouldn't be the same without Professor Blitz… er… Professor Himmler? Well, it was a moot point now. Life was cheap. You couldn't be raised by a retired super-policeman without finding that out pretty early on.

* * *

The man blinked as he appeared in the forested area. As a Squib, he was unable to Apparate out of the wood. A low growl made him turn around quickly, and he saw a huge golden dragon with cloudy blue eyes approach. He stumbled back from the gnashing teeth and churning claws, feeling faint.

"Traitor…" the great beast hissed. "Traitor… Traitor… Traitor!!" The last shout preceded a furious lunge, causing the human to dodge backwards and hide behind a tree. He saw a deer approach, and he breathed a silent sigh of semi-relief. Then, the deer launched itself at him, hissing and revealing massive fangs. Heinrich yelled loudly, and swarmed up the tree, away from the massive carnivorous deer. The dragon might go for the other predator and leave him alone. However, the dragon could be hungry after feeding on the strange carnivore, and attack him.

"I don't know why you think I'm a traitor, but I'm not!" Heinrich stammered. The dragon uprooted his tree with his claws, sending Heinrich and a cloud of birds flying. He landed in the canopy of a nearby evergreen tree, the needles sticking fiercely into uncomfortable places.

"Traitor!!" the dragon snarled, opening its jaws to breathe fire at the human.

"How am I a traitor?!" Heinrich yelped.

"You are a traitor! You must die!"

* * *

Maggie shoved the little baby with her nose, getting it to stand. She gave a piercing squeal, and clawed at one of the red-hot rocks, opening her mouth and gaping at her "mother".

"Oh, no you don't, Sid. You just ate a whole calf and drank a pail of milk. Go to sleep, little one."

"Ma'a!" the baby squeaked.

"Yes, you can call me Mama, but you can't go staying up till all hours of the night, Obsidian. Go to sleep." Magma curled about Obsidian's nest of hot rocks, and just looked at her little charge. The baby dragon flapped her wings, and then curled up into a small hole in the cairn, her nose and tail sticking out, stark ebony against the sheer white of the heated rocks.

"Ma'a! 'Tory!"

"You want a story?" Magma asked with a sigh. She hadn't realized just how much _work_ it was to raise a baby. The half-breed oaf wouldn't have stood a chance.

"Yah! Yah! Tory!"

"Well… let's see here… How about the story of the lonely babies?"

"On'y babies! Yah! Yah!"

"Alright. Well, a long time ago, there was a female Thunder-walker. She lived with her parents on a small plateau. Then, she had an egg. The egg cracked one day, and out came a baby!"

"Baby! Baby! Like me!"

"Yes, Sid, a baby like you. The mother raised her son well, until the Tyrant King came and took her away…" Maggie continued the story for a long time, until she was hoarse in the throat and Obsidian was completely asleep. "And they lived happily ever after," she finished with a yawning sigh. Her eyes slid closed and she fell asleep to the sounds of her baby sleeping. Her last thought was for Horace, and how he would take to his little sister.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, how was that? A new chapter of Constant Vigilance!**_

_**Balrog: And now Horace knows who Himmler is! And is the story the—Umph!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I want the people to guess, Balrog! Alright, everyone! Please review!**_

_**CT**_


	38. Chapter 38

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Here's a new one! This one's a bit longer, I think, so don't flame me!**_

_**Balrog: What's this one about?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: We'll just see, won't we? I don't own anything other than the plot and anything you don't recognize form JK Rowling or history class! Please review, people!**_

_**CT**_

* * *

"Rich_ard_!!" a voice cried.

"Yes, dear?" the dragon replied with what sounded like ling-suffering patience.

"Are you playing with your food again?"

"Erm…" The big golden dragon somehow managed to look chastised and embarrassed.

"You are, aren't you?" A crashing through the forest announced the arrival of another dragon, this one a deep sable touched with silver.

"Well, I'm _hungry_! That last spider I ate was hardly the size of one of those red-furred humpbacked elephants!"

"Is it _my_ fault that you're a bottomless pit? You ate two huge flocks of geese and that shepherd and his sheep last night! You can't have been hungry again already! And when did you eat a Murk Spider? You _know _they give you indigestion! Wait… you didn't eat frozen mammoth meat, did you? Those things are worse than glacierburned anything!"

_Someone should write a book on the marital lives of dragons, _Heinrich mused. _It'd certainly be less hazardous than doing the research yourself. How do I get myself into these situations?!_

"And don't eat too much, Richard! We've got an Advocacy Meeting tonight and you know Thrandy brings too much to the potluck!"

"Yes, Cosima. Can I bring the human to the potluck though?"

"Fine. It'll make a good garnish for Castor and Pollux's dodo-ostrich-emu-roc stew."

"Mmm! Do they have the skulls of the birds? And the brains in them? I love the crunchy outside and gooey inside!"

"What a pig, Richard! Alright." She gently grabbed Heinrich around the middle.

"Don't bruise it; that ruins the flavor!" Richard cried.

"I know; I can make anything taste good. You, on the other hand, are a walking disaster. I remember when you burned down most of the forest we lived five decades ago!"

"The domestic lives of dragons. Odin preserve me…" Heinrich muttered.

"Oh, this one is pagan. Interesting," Richard said in interest.

"The last human pagans worshipping Odin were the Advocate. We'll bring this one to the meeting and let it speak… perhaps it is an Advocate. What do you say, Richard?"

"I still want to eat it."

"So this is how I die. I escape death from the British, I escape death from age, and now I die by dragon," Heinrich grumbled.

* * *

"I don't believe it," Horace said firmly. His face was pale, and the relatively thin girl's diary in his hands was crumpled slightly. "Professor Blitz can't have done all that!"

"He did, dear," Valerie said, drawing him close. "I know you feel betrayed, and I know you wee fond of him. He wasn't a good man, though."

"He is too! He's a good man! He helped me during the troll incident—"

"Troll? What _troll?_" Victor asked in a deadly snarl

"Over Halloween, someone let in a troll. Probably the Weasley twins, for a practical joke. I bit it as my thestral-cat-thing, and Professor Blitz… well he almost blew up the troll magically, killing it."

"That's it," Victor growled. "I'm speaking to Albus. Make my excuses if anyone comes around looking for me." Victor walked to the catacombs, and Horace went to see him off. When the retired Auror launched himself off the ledge, Horace saw him transform into his Pteranadon form, and glide off.

"Horace," He turned to face his grandmother, who took him into a hug. "Let me tell you a story. When I was a student, I had a friend. Tom was a Slytherin, while I was in Gryffindor. We got into so much trouble… After we graduated, Professor Dumbledore took me aside and showed this to me." Valerie took her wand and wrote "Tom Marvolo Riddle" in fiery letters, then flicked her wand. They shifted to read "I ma Lord Voldemort".

"Who's Voldemort?" Horace asked.

"He killed your parents. I know what betrayal feels like, Horace."

"No you don't! He was just your friend! Professor Blitz was my friend and my Professor! And he's not a bad man! He's a good man! He is my favorite Professor!" Horace cried.

"Horace!" Valerie said firmly.

"No!" Harry turned, and morphed into his woodpecker form and flew up the stairs. Minerva morphed into her cat form, being much faster at running, and followed her wayward grandson. Soon, though, she heard the tell-tale squeal of pipes. Not the traditional show pipes, but the squalling war-drones, a harsh, shrieking wail that once whipped the ancient Gaels into a murderous blue frenzy. Then, she heard the pipes stop, and the door opened. Horace was standing there, his face screwed up in concentration. Suddenly, with a pop, Harry appeared much older and ruthless. A briefcase was in one hand, and he wore an immaculate suit.

"Mrs. Minerva McGonagall McPhaerson, you know the laws regarding exiling Mr. Blitz from your house and sentencing him to execution yourself. There are proper channels for this sort of action, and they must be obeyed. In order to balance out your action against my client, I will be forced to seize your assets, liquid and otherwise, and—"

"Horace! My Gods, you have a _lawyer_ Animagus form!!"

* * *

Dudley Dursley walked down the halls of Hogwarts to his next Potions class. Without Professor Blitz, it was a drag and slow. The old man teaching it had been so clumsy and nervous that it was amazing no one was dead. Yet. Dudley decided to skip Potions today and go see Maggie and her new baby. Christmas was coming up, and it was a bit disappointing to not be putting up the tree with his parents. But his parents had been a bunch of idiots when they kicked him out, though, so maybe he shouldn't miss them too much.

"Ah, ickle Duddykins!" a voice cackled, preceding a ton of flour being dropped from the ceiling.

"Peeves!" Dudley roared, trying to clean the flour out of his hair.

"Oh ickle Duddy, he's so fuddy—"

"Peeves! I will kill you for this!" Dudley stood, sopping wet, and covered in rapidly congealing Paper Mache mix. A bin of confetti finished Dudley's transformation into a Paper Mache statue.

"Oh, no!" It was Anthony, a Ravenclaw. _Expulsio_! Dudley's eyes drifted to Peeves, who was floating and trying to keep his tongue in his mouth while he was semi-singing.

"Hey, cool!" a voice cried. "That'd be awesome in—" "—a prank! I'm Gred—" "—And I'm Forge!" The Weasley twins made a motion with their wands, and Peeves rocketed out of the hallway, bouncing off the walls like a rubber ball, cackling all the while.

Suddenly, they saw a student walking through the hall. It was a curly-haired Fifth-year. Her eyes were glazed over and she was walking up the stairs at a rapid pace. Dudley and Anthony followed her, all the way up to the Third Floor corridor. She opened the door with some Hermione-esque spell, and walked inside, singing some ridiculous ditty about a spider in the rain. A large three-headed dog lay there, unconscious.

"Stop right there!" Anthony cried. The girl stopped singing, and she looked shocked. The dog got up and began to bark. Anthony and Dudley closed the door with a bang, and locked it behind them. The scream of the girl and the barking of the dog were accompanying them down the hallway as they ran to their Potions class. They didn't talk, but just pounded down the hallways, faces white and hearts racing at the near-death experience.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: What do you think of that?**_

_**Balrog: Horace has a lawyer animagus form? That's spooky.**_

**_Celebwen Telcontar: Please review!_**

**_CT_**


	39. Chapter 39

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Here's the next chapter! I hope you like it!**_

_**Balrog: With what? Does Himmler get eaten in this? Please?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: You'll just have to wait and see, Balrog!**_

_**CT**_

* * *

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!" Victor snarled. "You hired a Death Eater. That is one thing. Then, from what I understand from Quernius, you hired what's-his-face. That is something else. And then, _then_, you had to hire a Nazi. A _Nazi. _A member of the National Socialist German Workers Party. A member of the _Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei_! What in the names of _Arthur, Igrane and Uther _were you _thinking?!_ _Were_ you even thinking?!" Victor's rant cut off as Dumbledore crowed violently. Fawkes squawked and vanished in a nimbus of flame. "And now I have evidence that you let a girl get _murdered_ here by that tricranial canine menace!!"

"Tricranial?" Dumbledore asked with a massive twinkle.

"Three heads, you anal ignoramus! Horace is _never_ coming back here, and I am taking Dudley as well! Good luck getting this cairn recertified as a school, bumbleass!" Victor slammed the door shut on the way out, and he was sure he heard _Phineas Nigellus_ laughing and something, probably some other Headmaster or –Mistress's portrait hitting the floor with a resounding crash and an indignant yell. The old ex-auror chuckled. "That went well," he commented to the gargoyle as he passed. "Now for that damned guard dog of Hades'."

He made his way down the hall, then down to the third floor. No one was around, and he unlocked the corridor door, his wand out. "Come out and fight, you mangy cur!" he snarled. As the massive three-headed dog got up, Victor slid easily back into the disused persona of Alistair Moody. He began casting hexes and jinxes left and right, a blood-boiling hex hitting the dog in the paw and a disemboweling curse hitting its left head, spilling brains everywhere. The dog yelped as Victor hit it with a flesh-rotting curse, and followed that up with a vicious hair-removal charm. Apparently hair being yanked by the roots out of rotting flesh didn't feel too good. The remaining two heads snarled at him, dripping bloody saliva. Holding his breath, Victor filled the hall with mustard gas, causing the dog to wheeze and cough up bits of its own lungs. Victor banished the gas, and then finished the dog with an organ removal curse, banishing its heart and lungs somewhere else in the school. He would love to see the faces of whoever saw the organs first.

With a sigh of completion, Victor left the body rotting there, placing it over the trap door and sealing the door with a flesh-liquefaction curse that made the beast's skin and remaining organs flow into the cracks. Blood was really very sticky if applied right. He cast the curse's counter, freezing the flow of liquid dog into the bowels of the school.

He left the door closed; no sense in letting any of the students or Professors locate the cause of the stench until it was really overpowering.

* * *

Dudley Dursley walked up the Hufflepuff stairs until he got to his dorm. He fell on the bed, waiting for sleep to come, when he heard an odd _thump-bump_ from inside the walls, as of something heavy and wet smacking stone. But it was inside his wall, so he couldn't do anything about it. He supposed that it would just be another mystery. He really missed Professor Blitz; Professor Diablo was a bore and a fraud. He taught things like how to make Dutch Apple Pie in their caldrons, and how to make a lemon-scented citrus cleaner/degreaser. Now Professor Blitz knew what he was talking about; he had the students make a genetic-revealing potion, a DNA-altering potion, and different cosmetic potions, plus toxic liquids like arsenic and cyanide.

Dudley hadn't had enough food for dinner, and he was hungry. "Oy, Jason!" he called. "How do you get to the kitchens?"

"I'll go with you. Come on." The two Hufflepuffs went down the hallway, skirting Peeves who was making a mess with corn starch and water, and the Weasley twins who were making the Trophy room into a pond complete with water lilies and a couple frogs. Dudley thought he saw a few yellow slit-pupiled eyes staring at him, but he wasn't sure. Crocodiles, after all, preferred warm climates. "Dud! Over here!" Jason called. He motioned to a painting of a bowl of fruit. He tickled the pear, and a handle appeared, making the picture a door. It led to the kitchens, which were swarming with House-Elves.

Suddenly, the door vanished in a puff of smoke. A voice boomed down the hallway: "Hey! Blackie! Nor—Sid! Get back here!" The massive gamekeeper rushed in, following a black dragon the size of a pony. The baby dragon hid behind Dudley, who dropped his piece of cake. The House-Elves squeaked and bolted, finding other, less hazardous places to be. Hagrid picked up the dragonet, which squalled like an overgrown cat, and walked out, chastising the infant. Dudley blinked twice, undecided between thinking it was an involved illusion and believing that the gamekeeper had a baby dragon as a pet. Jason was looking oddly at his piece of chocolate, then pitched it into a bin and left.

"It's the chocolate. It's got to be the chocolate," Dudley heard his dorm mate say firmly. He was about to follow when he saw Victor McPhaerson walking down the hall, covered in blood and gore, bits of bone, brain and other, less mentionable substances coating his robes, and whistling cheerfully.

"Come on, Dudley! We're going home!" he called spontaneously. A piece of rotting flesh fell off of his cheek. Dudley fainted.

* * *

"Shit!!!" the pilot screamed, obviously not realizing that the intercom system was on. George H. W., George W., Laura and Barbara Bush hurried to their seats, pushing past different staff as they did. Ernst Rommel flung himself in his seat, buckling up, followed by Harry Truman, Ike Eisenhower, and General Patton.

"What the Hell is going on?" Patton barked.

"We're losing altitude fast!" a crewmember yelled, staggering towards the staircase to the cockpit. He opened the door, and was talking to the pilot until he returned. "An engine just cut out. We'll have to land in the Black Forest. Hang on!" The crewmember sat down and buckled in as the plane lurched again. The passengers were flung against their harnesses, and yelled as they saw foliage and pieces of trees pass them at high speeds. Something large and yellow hit a window, breaking it and giving the crew member a very bad cut on his neck. The plane stopped with an ear-splitting screech of tortured metal, flipped upside down, and spun in place for a second, and then tipped slowly downwards. The big yellow thing which hit the window reared up and stared at the politicians and generals.

"Good God!" Truman yelped. "It's a dragon!"

"We're hallucinating. It's common in high-stress situations," Laura Bush said, her calm voice a sure sign of shock. Her husband was unconscious in the seat next to her, a piece of glass having cut his forehead. Barbara was also unconscious, the safety harness wound oddly about her throat and chest, her face turning purple.

"Barbara!" George H. W. cried. Patton unbuckled and hung by the harness until he could reach the First Lady. He quickly grabbed her armrest, clinging to it by his legs like a child and monkey bars, and unbuckled Barbara. He unwound the harness and slowly lowered the woman to the roof of the plane. Then, the edge of the aircraft screeched a final time, and they fell out of the tree, flipping right-side-up, flinging the gear, unbuckled crew, Patton and Barbara Bush hither and yon, and finally falling on something that moved under them.

"By Odin's Hammer! What the Hell was _that_, Richard?!" a female voice snarled.

"Some sort of mundane Human airship, I think," the male voice replied.

"Uhhhn?" George W. asked groggily. He stared in obvious disbelief at the compound fracture in his femur, bending the leg like a second knee and leaking blood everywhere. The bone was poking out of the outside of his thigh, missing his femoral artery by an unknown margin. Barbara was completely out cold, her head rapidly bruising from where she hit a crate. Laura was pale and sweating, her body unhurt save for scratches and minimal bruising. The crewmember was definitely dead, his neck half severed. His jugular was sliced, making the floor slick with blood.

The plane, or what was left of it, shifted suddenly, and crashed someplace. Patton, Barbara Bush, and the mess of loose furniture, phones, a TV, and a few other things on Air Force One, went crashing everywhere. A table hit George W. on the side of the head, the impact caving in part of the skull, sending blood everywhere. Laura screamed as pieces of blood, bone, cerebral matter, and gore from her now-dead husband hit her face. The climax of the crash was when the top of the aircraft was sliced open neatly and peeled away like a sardine can by a pair of very sharp and very large talons. Laura Bush finally fainted as she saw the huge head of the dragon look inside and exclaim: "Oooh! Tomorrow's lunch!"

* * *

Valerie sat in the drawing room, looking at the terrifyingly cold lawyer across from her. His briefcase was open, revealing more dirt on her than she knew was possible. He was a walking legal disaster for her, and she was glad that he was on her side, and more importantly, her grandson's Animagus form. In front of her was a paper, saying in five hundred words what ten could, that Heinrich Himmler was an employee of Hogwarts and that only Hogwarts could discipline him.

"I hate law," Valerie muttered, a headache beginning behind her eyes. The wording was fine enough to give her eye strain, and worded so as to get the maximum bedtime out of it. "I hate Lawyerese. What deity hates me?"

"Lady McGonagall, please fill out the paperwork! I have many different cases to see today, including one that involves Stille Hilfe and not just a member of the National Socialist German Worker's Party being digested!"

"Alright, that's it!" she cried. "Stop the damned act! Horace, change back, now! This is a very impressive ruse, but it will not get your Professor back! He has already been eaten, no doubt, and you will be much safer without him. He killed 18 million people, Horace! He is not a friend! Please understand me!"

"Lady McGonagall, I beg you to desist! I will return following my appointment with Mrs. Burwitz, and will expect the paperwork filled out and ready to file. Understand me, Lady McGonagall, that I have all applications of the law behind me, and you are _outside_ of them!" With that last hissed threat, the lawyer snapped his organized briefcase closed, and walked calmly and icily out of the house. Valerie fell back on the chair, confused. Nothing terrified her more than lawyers. They were her Bogart, and Horace had portrayed a frighteningly real one. She shuddered, rolling her shoulders back. Aiaugh, the House-Elf, brought her a cup of chamomile tea and a warm cloth, which she put on her brows to calm herself down. Later, she would find her grandson, after getting calm enough to think coherently without panicking. The entire plan to kidnap Horace from the Dursleys was getting very out of hand!

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: What do you think?**_

_**Balrog: Blood. Blood and fear everywhere! And what of Himmler?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: The dragon couple keeps getting sidetracked! He's not been eaten just yet!**_

_**Please review!**_

_**CT**_


	40. Chapter 40

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Sorry about the long wait. **_

_**Balrog: And what's the problem this time?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I was trying to deal with Himmler, the dragon, and a few other things at the same time. Plus real life and my muse running screaming from me. Also, this chapter was difficult to write; there are several things happening in this chapter that have to do with spirituality and mythology, and one of the characters goes berserk later.**_

_**Balrog: Great. I always knew you were someone's worst nightmare, not to mention a berserker.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Very funny, Balrog. Alright, people, I own what you do not recognize. And not even all of that, because three characters are three people who really, physically lived flung into other bodies. See if you can spot them!**_

* * *

Richard was getting ready for the potluck with the Advocacy meeting when the undergrowth bordering the clearing rustled. Out rode a boy, maybe three, perched on a patient burly gelding about the size of a plough horse, dwarfing the rider in comparison. Richard snorted, furling his wings, and looked down at the diminutive being. The boy rode before a contingent of Erlkönigs and Weisse Frauen. The ethereal feminine spirits seemed to ride above their steeds, not astride them, and they seemed a bit annoyed. Their fair faces were fixed in scowls and snarls, and the Erlkönigs had their swords drawn.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he demanded. The company of riders halted, and the boy stared Richard in the face.

"We have come so I can finish what I started," the boy said. His speech was fair and gentle, and Richard felt himself being drawn into the siren-like voice. "Your Advocacy meeting must be removed."

"Advocacy? Removed?" Cosima demanded.

"Yes. This Advocacy meeting must be disbanded."

"Who do you think you are?" Richard asked.

"I am an Elf. I was born less than fifty years ago--"

"Which explains your size," Cosima put in.

"And was told to continue my work. This is the last piece of my work, and I will not fail. Not today, never again."

"Continue your work? What do you mean?" Richard asked. He saw the bespectacled human try to escape, along with the other humans, and corralled them with his tail.

"Just that. Allow me to inspect everyone at your potluck, and I will be gone."

"You can't seriously consider breaking and entering and poking our guests with your long nose is going to go over well?" Cosima asked.

"You forget your place, Dragon," the boy snarled. "I am Siegfried son of Beowulf son of George son of Bard, and Claus son of Alfred of the land of Stauffen!

"You are an arrogant prick and a traitor," Richard growled. "Taking the names of several historic dragon slayers is the last mistake you'll make." Richard heard one of his prisoners chuckle dryly.

"You call yourself a descendant of the Slayer of the Mountain-Lord?" Cosima asked the boy. "You are nothing. You cannot even hold a sword correctly, much less anything else. Your bowshot would be wasted. Besides, the Mountain Lord was the last of us who had a lost plate from our armor."

"We shall see, Wyrm. I challenge you, Dragon."

"What are the stakes?" Richard asked. No self-respecting dragon could ever resist a challenge.

"Those humans." Siegfried pointed to the humans trapped by Richard's tail.

"Agreed. The challenge is a riddle-contest. What has roots that nobody sees, is taller than the trees, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?" One of the prisoners, one of the three females, replied to another prisoner's assessment of his mate, saying something about shock. "We're going to die," another male prisoner grumbled, followed by another's "Idiots. Can't make one up to save their lives."

"A Mountain. As I was walking to St. Ives, I spied a man with seven wives. Each wife had seven sacks, and each sack had seven cats. Each cat had seven kits and each of the kits had seven ticks. Ticks, kits, cats, sacks, and wives, how many were going to St. Ives?"

"Great," one of the prisoners, one of the males, grumbled. "Nursery rhymes. What's next? Tall tales?"

"One. What is the answer to the last riddle in the great Game of Old?"

"The Debated Riddle or the Non-Debated Riddle?"

"The Non-Debated Riddle."

"The answer was 'Time'. The Riddle was 'This thing all things devours; birds, beasts, trees, flowers; gnaws iron, bites steel; grinds hard stone to meal; slays king, ruins town; brings high mountain down'. How many days did Moses take to make the Arc?" All of the prisoners snorted at this, sounding truly amused.

"Silence, there, food," Richard reprimanded. "I'll eat you slowly if you aren't quiet."

"My ass," one of the prisoners snarled. "I've lost my husband I've been captured by a mythical beast, and I'm in the company of a Nazi. I'm obviously hallucinating." Cosima snorted in response, then looked at them.

"I'll prove to you that we're real." The dragoness snatched up one of the human females, eating her in two bites so that the blood would convince the food. Terror was an excellent sauce.

"That's real," the younger remaining female said. The smell and taste coming off of her wasn't of terror, but was of shock.

"None, Noah built the Arc, not Moses. I know my monotheistic mythology. The answer to this riddle is 'A horcrux'," Richard said gleefully. The boy's eyes went wide. He looked fully perplexed, until one of the Erlkönigs said simply: "A horcrux is an item made from splitting one's soul in order to make one's life longer, my prince."

"Thank you, Hrothgar. The riddle to the answer is 'What is in my pocket?' and is the last and most debated Riddle of the last great Game of Old."

"Mae govannen," Richard heard. He whipped his head around to see an Elf enter into the clearing. He stared at Richard's prisoners, and it looked like one of them had a seizure.

"Thrandy!" Cosima cried, going over to talk to the Elf.

* * *

"Rommel, what the Hell are you doing here?" Heinrich asked. The Desert Fox scowled at him.

"Himmler. I should have known you were still around," he growled.

"Shut up, both of you," Patton barked. "Himmler, you're going to serve time for crimes against humanity, and Rommel, you're going to stay with us until we get things figured out."

"Listen, all of you, this isn't helping us," the only surviving flight attendant snapped, holding Heinrich and Rommel apart. She was a burly woman with her hair flying everywhere from the crash. The dragon and the boy began to talk, and the prisoners were discussed as bartering chips.

"What?" Barbra Bush asked, staring at the dragons. "I am _not _a piece of property!"

"Barbara," George H. W. said calmingly, placing a hand on her arm. The others looked at the dragon and boy bickering. "My God, Barb, you're freezing."

"Probably shock," the stewardess said.

"We're going to die," Rommel muttered.

"Idiots," Patton snapped. "Can't even make up one to save their lives."

The boy said a common nursery rhyme, a trick question involving more information then was useful in the riddle.

"Great," George H. W. muttered. "Nursery rhymes. What's next, tall tales?"

When the question was another trick, involving Moses and Noah's Arc, everyone snorted in suppressed mirth at the idiocy of the situation. The male dragon looked back at his prisoners and threatened to eat them all slowly. "My ass," Laura snarled. "I've lost my husband, I've been captured by a mythical beast, and I'm with the company of a Nazi. I'm obviously hallucinating." The female dragon snorted and said that she was real. The stewardess didn't even get to scream as she was snatched up in massive jaws. The strong teeth sliced her in half, and as her legs fell into the circle cast by the dragon's tail, the blood sprayed everywhere.

"That's real," Laura amended. "Sorry about the misunderstanding." Heinrich sat on the ground against the dragon's tail. He felt like saying that they were still there, and also a bit like they were on trial. The thought made his skin crawl, because he knew all that he had done. It wasn't comforting. Whatever this boy would do to them was an unknown, but he knew that the dragons would eat them.

"Mae govannen," someone called. They turned and looked over the dragon's confining tail to see a… well, he wasn't a human. He was tall and blonde, with his hair arranged in an intricate style that framed his long, pale face and seemed to enhance his exceptional blue eyes. When Heinrich looked into those eyes, he saw another world. It seemed to be a Hell as well as a Heaven, in that it was comforting and light as well as painfully radiant. The pure Light stabbed into Heinrich's very soul, igniting the black and shoving it to the edges. Heinrich yelled and fell backwards off of the dragon's tail, and stared at the golden-haired being.

"Who the hell are you?" George H. W. Bush breathed.

_I am your worst enemy, Heinrich Himmler_, a voice whispered in his mind. Heinrich gasped, and an ethereal hand closed about his throat. The screech of an eagle rang in his ears, and his eyes saw only sheer white Light. There was a burning sensation within him, and he smelled something that might have been ozone. He was completely paralyzed, and felt like he was someThing had just looked into his very soul. The other humans were having experiences of their own, but Heinrich couldn't concentrate on anything other than his own feelings. He was barely conscious of the female dragon saying something as he was shaken by someThing through the paralysis. _Yes, Heinrich Himmler, fear. Fear for yourself, you have no escape from me._ The voice kept taunting Heinrich until he wet and shat himself in terror. _I am an Elvenking, a monarch of what you called Aryans. You have subjected yourself to me, and now you shall see just how terrifying we can be!_

* * *

Horace walked into the large office building purposefully, and was stopped by the secretary.

"Good evening," she said. "We've been expecting you. Come with me, please, to the Hall of Prophecy."

"Hall of Prophecy?" Horace asked, bewildered.

"Yes. You have had a Prophecy told about you, and we will find it and give it to you. Aurora?" she called. Another woman approached and took Horace to a large room.

"Mr. McGonagall, I have several prophecies that may apply to you. I'll have them revealed to you one at a time."

"Alright…" Horace said, confused. Aurora tapped her wand on a pedestal, and an ethereal figure with what looked like a jesters cap rose.

_The death of the One Who Stays Death is a herald for the coming of the Chosen One… and he shall be revered as the greatest and best… and he shall fall… and he shall know both Dark and Light… and he shall be a harbinger of Balance… _

The Prophecy was completed as the jester was absorbed back into his pedestal.

"That's one Chosen One prophecy. Here's another one."

_The Chosen Ones shall be born to Death and Fear… They shall know Light, and shall return the Fallen Places to their former Glory… They shall return the Temples of Knowledge to their Old Laws… And all shall rejoice…_

"That one seems a little more enigmatic than the first one. I don't understand the meaning of either, but then again, it's prophecy. Only the Seer knows what it means until it is completed." She tapped her wand on the pedestal again.

_Whence the Great War is ended, his time shall begin… He shall reign triumphant for a time… and shall be slain by his own hand, and is Right Hand shall groom the Chosen One to take his place…_

"That one is a bit spooky. I think it may refer to Hitler, but I'm not sure," Aurora said. Horace closed his eyes; he understood what Hitler had done, but he was confused over Heinrich. "Here's one that's really confusing, it probably doesn't apply to you, because of certain inconsistencies with the wording and your life."

_Into every generation One is born. One in all the world, a Chosen One. One born with the strength and skill to war with all forces of Darkness, to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers._

"That one was extremely vague."

"I know what you mean. However, it has been fulfilled, we think."

"Fulfilled? How?" Horace asked.

"We think that it's been in action for years. Centuries, millennia, perhaps."

"So then I don't have to fight all evil."

"Right."

"Well, that's a relief."

"This is our last Chosen One prophecy."

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_

"That one is fairly recent; the others have been here for some time."

"Thank you for your time," Horace said to her. He had a lot to think about. Five prophecies that could or could not apply to him, and all had the subject fighting some great evil, save the second one, that basically had the subject(s) bringing a society back from the brink of self-annihilation. He groaned as he walked out of the Hall of Prophecy, and let go of his Lawyer animagus self. He concentrated on his Dark and Air form, and felt himself shrink. He was hungry for grubs, or some insects, that he could get from dead trees. He spread his black and white wings, and took to the air. Nobody noticed a woodpecker indigenous to Mexico flying in Melbourne due to the Notice-Me-Not charms.

* * *

"Ma'a!" the baby squeaked. "'Tory! 'Tory!"

"You want another story?" Magma asked.

"Yah! Ma'a 'tory!" Obsidian flapped her wings a bit, rising off of the ground.

"Very good, Obsidian!" Magma praised. The door to the school opened, and Magma looked over to who was coming out. "Good evening, Victor! Good morning, Dudley!" she called as she saw the two leaving the premises. "Where are you two headed?"

"Melbourne," Victor called. "Dumbledore is too manipulative for either of my boys to be here."

"Good luck, both of you. I'd come, but Obsidian is too little to leave the warmth of the nest." She rolled a bit of the red-hot stones over Obsidian's body, tucking the little dragonet into her nest, then blew flames over the cooling portions. The glutinous mass of spongy rocks made a perfect blanket for the two of them, and Maggie reveled in the heat. Dragons all loved heat, the hotter the better. Several had been known to den up in active volcanoes, the heat making them less prone to hibernation. She watched Victor change into his Animagus form then Dudley scramble onto his back. The boy clutched the saddle on Victor's back, and the giant ancient bird flapped off. Magma smiled softly, watching the two of them head out. "Once upon a time, there was a girl. She lived with her mother on an island. One day, she fell in love, and she wanted to mate her lover. But there was a problem. She wanted her mother's mate to be with her…" Maggie smiled as Obsidian dropped off to sleep. The stones glowed a dull red as Maggie rested against the nest and curled up next to the kit.

Halfway through the night, Maggie felt that something was very wrong. She sat up, quickly rolling the still-hot stones that had been under her on top of Obsidian, then walked off to whatever the problem was. Something was in the school… She nudged open the doors with her nose, and clawed her way into the school. Something was definitely wrong. As she reached the central hall, she looked up. The problem was on the third floor corridor, where the Cerberus was kept. She spread her wings and launched herself upwards, keeping her wings close to her body to keep from destroying the staircases. She landed on the landing near the forbidden corridor, and opened the door with a well-placed shove of her muzzle. Inside, the Cerberus was guarding the trap door, and it whined and ran off at her entrance.

"Don't kill me! Don't kill me! I'm a good doggie!" he whimpered, covering two of his three heads with his forepaws. Maggie snorted in amusement, then clawed her way through the floor. As she fell, she wrenched herself aside so she could fall on her talons, not her head. Something started to try capturing her legs and tail, and she tried to move. It was futile, as she was held in place by some tentacles and more of them were creeping up her sides. With a bellow, she lit the tentacles, instantly freeing herself as they burnt themselves to a cinder. She walked on, squeezing herself through a small passageway. Inside of it was a tiny door, just big enough for a human. She simply bashed the wall to pieces with her tail, then walked right through.

"Oooh, Chess," she said. As a dragon, she couldn't resist a challenge, riddle or game. It was in their genetic makeup. The board instantly enlarged herself so she could take the part of any of the pieces. With glee, she took the part of the Queen. As the white pieces started, she saw a large flaw in the strategy of the white pieces. She quickly employed the Bishop to take the Queen and she herself marched up to the white King and melted its metal body with her flaming breath. She opened the door, finding a very angry troll inside of the next room. She got past it by the simple expedient of incinerating it. Before the ash had settled, she moved past to the next chamber. The hole her body had created was far larger than the doorway, and a magical flame, purple, exploded behind her. She stared at the table before her, then read the parchment, shivering in glee. She mumbled the potions, then figured out which was which. With a smirk, she grabbed the tiniest bottle with her claws delicately, and swallowed it whole. The potion sent her skin tingling, and she felt cold. With a colossal roar, she shattered the stones and walked through the black fire barring her from the next challenge.

"Holy shit!" the man cried out. He leapt backwards from where he was standing, tipping over a mirror. Maggie took one look at him and realized he belonged with Friekorps, the old German pre-Nazi order.

"May I ask what you are doing here?" Maggie asked, igniting some torches on the wall. The Friekorps member scrambled backwards, trying to get away.

"What is it, you fool?!" a voice snarled from inside the man's hat.

"DRAGON!!!" the man screeched at the top of his lungs. Maggie could have sworn she heard an exasperated sigh.

"Kill it, you fool!!!" the voice roared at its co-inhabitant.

"Avada kedavra!!" the Friekorps officer stammered, firing the Killing Curse at her. It simply glanced off of her scales, hitting a wall and sending it flying in tiny pieces.

"Idiot," Maggie said, shaking her head. "Don't you know that dragons can't be killed by spells? Spells don't even effect us." She drew a breath, aimed at the Friekorps officer, and released the conflagration.

When she stopped breathing fire, she saw that everything was scorched, save the mirror in the center of the room. Its frame had been melted, but it didn't have any dammage to it at all. She went to the mirror and looked into it, confused. A magical mirror that didn't melt in white-hot fire was a rarity. She saw herself with a rock under one talon, and found the rock there. She lifted it, and saw that it pulsed with an inner light.

"Hmmm…" she said, intrigued. She then tossed it up and blew a jet of flame at it, melting it. Its melted self fell into her mouth, and she choked on it. "I am not going to save the school only to end up like the Chimera," she rasped, hacking on the melted stone. It didn't help, and trickled into her stomach. She glowed slightly, and snorted. "Whatever the hell that was, I'm not doing this again!"

"Hello?" a voice asked. She turned to find a small hole in the wall where she had melted the school's foundation. She saw a golden eye looking out at her. "Who are you?"

"My name is Maggie. What's yours?"

"Sylvia," the golden-eyed thing replied. "How are you still alive?"

"I don't understand," Maggie replied.

"I'm a basilisk. I am cursed with killing everything I look at."

"Well, apparently that was a Philosopher's Stone I swallowed. Hello, Sylvia. I'll be back in a moment, this place would be perfect for a nest. I just need to find my nestling, and I'll be back."

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_**Celebwen Telcontar: So, what did you all think of that?**_

_**Balrog: Rather interesting. Maggie finds the Philosopher's stone and not Harry.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, I personally think she's a bit smarter. Harry is only a child, a rather unique child, yes, but still a child. Maggie has been around for a good five centuries, and she's still very young. But having swallowed the Philosopher's Stone, she's going to be immortal.**_

_**Balrog: The prophecies? Can you explain those?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, I got a bit out of hand with the prophecies, didn't I? If anyone can tell me what they relate to, they get a free toy balrog!**_

_**Balrog: What?! Are you out of your mind?!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Apparently. **_

_**Please review, people!**_

_**CT**_


	41. Chapter 41

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Here's the next chapter! Please read and review!**_

_**Balrog: (Whimpers, huddling behind curtains)**_

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"Horace James McGonagall," a voice said from an alcove after Horace walked out of the Prophecy room. The lawyer Animagus turned to see who was speaking. It was a dark eyed man with silvered hair and a grey mustache in dramatic furs. A cloak was fastened at his neck, draped over one arm like royalty of old. "I have watched your growth; it mirrors my daughter's perfectly. However, she became like her part, a vicious woman, while you still have hope. Deny your appreciation of Himmler! He is a man ill in mind, and will kill you in the end."

"Who are you?"

"A man. I once was a leader, now I am a player. We have no need of names here; let me tell you my story." The man conjured two chairs in the alcove of the law firm's building, and put up some sort of ward. "Years ago, twenty to be exact, I was a leader. My people were running out of food, and all of them would die if I let things go. So I had to take things in hand. I segregated the population, and sent one half, exactly one half, precisely four thousand people, to their deaths. Quickly, painlessly. The other half survived, and would have barely done so had the resupply ship come at the appointed hour. I destroyed those whom were sick and frail, elderly, and had no chance and were merely mouths with no output."

"So you killed four thousand people to save four thousand more?"

"Yes. It was a difficult decision; I would have been hailed a hero had the supply ship arrived when it was scheduled. Thank all above that it did not. It arrived early; I was removed as governor of that colony. I deserved it, I shouldn't have played God as I did."

"But if it had arrived when it was supposed to, everyone would have died," Horace said firmly.

"Yes. But does that give me the right to play God? No. I am simply a man, running from my own past. Do not make my mistakes, boy. I was a soldier in a cause; there were things that had to be done, terrible things! And now I must atone for my sins. I have a performance to do, and I must go. Farewell, young friend. I doubt I shall see you again; my heart goes to beat its last, the lights of life dim and the curtain falls, I can tell." The man took a strange looking time turner from beneath his furred robes, quickly banished the ward and the chairs, and twisted in Apparation.

"What the Hell?" Horace asked, staring at the place the man had once been. "Who the _Hell_ was that?"

"Sir?" a young man in a suit asked. "Can I help you?"

"I… I don't know." Horace sat at the table the intern led him to, and knocked back the glass of water as though it were a brandy.

"Sir, that was one of our resident Seers. Apparently, his magical transportation opened his Seer channels. Would you like to speak with our other Seers?"

"Yes, please.

_And in a time of great despair there shall come a savior, and he shall be known as the Son of the Suns. He shall know both Light and Dark, and shall destroy Darkness and be a portent of Light._

Horace stared in the room, seeing only a grey-haired and bearded man slumped in the chair. "Come in, come in, my good sir! May I have your name?"

"Horace McGonagall."

"Ah. Are you here for a Seeing, or to hear our Prophecies?"

"Both."

"Good, good. Sit right here, kind sir..." He motioned to an overstuffed armchair, and as Harry sat, he felt the chair shift and moan. "Pay no heed to the chair. Now, sit still please..." The bearded man fell into a trance.

_And in a time of great despair there shall come a terror... It shall destroy all, and shall be stopped only by the death of the Fourth... And a child shall be born... The great terror shall reside within the child, and the child shall become great... He shall be all that stands between the Darkness and the Avenger... _

"Ahem. Excuse me. I don't know what's coming over me today. Now stay still, please. This will take a bit of time." The Seer took a large chunk of a purplish stone from his pocket, suspended on a golden chain. "Watch the pendulum, if you will." Horace did so, seeing the purple rock sway back and forth until that was all he could see. "Hmm. It seems that you already have a Prophecy told about you. Has your family been the victim of a Kinslayer?"

"No," Horace replied, knowing a Kinslayer was someone who killed their own family, usually for power purposes, though some were in a trance.

"Are you a natural blonde living in the Elemental Lands?"

"No."

"Are you a slave?"

"No."

"Are your birth parents dead?"

"Yes."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere! Hmmm... do you have any siblings?"

"No."

"Hmmm... not that, or that... obviously not that one... hmm... Did your parents die fighting a great evil?"

"Yes."

"Hmm... not that one... hmm... Have you ever died?"

"... Not to my knowledge."

"Alright... hmm... Do you have a cousin?"

"Yes."

"Are you really a lawyer over thirty years of age?"

"No."

"Do you attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"Yes."

"Ah! That's it! Here's your Prophecy: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_I hope that helps."

"Thank you, that helps greatly." Horace stood up, picked up his breifcase, and shifted into a Phoenix before flashing back to his room.

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___**Celebwen Telcontar: Kind of rushed, I know.**_

___**Balrog: It's okay. I 'm glad you didn't include any of the Nazis! Nasty Humans!**_

___**Celebwen Telcontar: Glad to be of service. Please review, people!**_


	42. Author's Note

_**Author's Note: **_

I am seriously considering removing this story. I have a poll on my profile regarding the status, and would appreciate it if you left a vote for it.

Thanks,

Celebwen Telcontar


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